Holiday Kiss
by ominousunflower
Summary: Luka's not sure why Chat Noir keeps using the holidays as an excuse to kiss him, but he's certainly not complaining.
1. Sweet Spell

**A/N: **This fic is a standalone, meaning it is **not **related to the_ Missing the Third_ fics. Also, translations are at the end of each chapter. However, for this chapter, you should know ahead of time that "Des bonbons ou un sort!" translates to "Candy or a spell!" (It's the French version of "Trick or treat!")

* * *

**Sweet Spell  
****(Halloween)**

It's nine o'clock at night when the last group of costumed children leaves the Liberty. Luka smiles and waves as he watches them go, his fingers stiff with black and white paint.

Unlike much of France, the Couffaines like Halloween. It's well-known that dark and gothic things are their aesthetic—so what better holiday than a scary one with ghosts and ghouls, zombies and vampires? And of course, Anarka has never been one for tradition. While some Parisians say that Halloween celebrations are disrespectful to La Toussaint, Anarka wholeheartedly embraces the holiday.

As in past years, the deck has been transformed into a sinister space. Black fabric is draped across the boat, and sickly green lights glow in the corners, casting a ghoulish glow on the area. And scattered around the boat are fake spiders, zombie hands, gravestones, grim reapers—along with several fake weapons that, on second thought, might be real and probably shouldn't be near children.

Like some people who leave their Christmas trees up until the end of January, Luka's mother will probably neglect to put away these decorations for several weeks, carrying Halloween well into the Christmas shopping season.

Humming to himself, Luka grabs a broom and begins sweeping up debris. Over the past few hours, children's costumes have shed streamers, threads, other tiny pieces, accidentally littering the houseboat's deck. Tonight was the busiest night Luka can recall: he must have handed out candy to at least a hundred children. Of the two giant bowls he started with, one of them is completely empty.

That's one distinctive feature of the twenty-first arrondissement: the children in this part of Paris love to trick-or-treat. In other arrondissements, the practice isn't nearly as popular; most people dismiss it as a stupid American tradition. Luka fervently disagrees with those people, of course—not that he would ever start a fight with them. They're entitled to their opinions.

Somehow, as Luka cleans, the theme from _The Nightmare Before Christmas _gets stuck in his head, and he ends up humming most of the soundtrack. He supposes it's fitting. He _is _dressed as a skeleton, after all.

With the deck swept, Luka grabs the full bowl of candy and carries it below-deck. The houseboat is quiet—Juleka and Rose have gone to a house party with their friends, and Luka's mother is out celebrating with some of her fellow musicians. Luka expects he'll have the place to himself for the next few hours.

As Luka sets the bowl of candy on the kitchen counter, he thinks he hears a light tapping noise. He pauses, straining to listen. A moment passes, and then he hears the sound again: knuckles knocking on glass.

Although Luka's not one to get overly excited, he can't deny that he feels a tiny flicker of hope at the sound. It's not that he expected his favorite superhero to visit—but if there was ever a time for a black cat to be slinking around the Liberty, it would be Halloween.

Luka turns and glances at the nearest porthole window. Sure enough, a familiar face is pressed to the glass, his fingers curled like a cat's paw as he moves to knock on the window again.

Biting back a smile, Luka crosses to the window and pulls it open. "Salut, Chat Noir."

"Des bonbons ou un sort!" Chat sings, grinning. "I hope you still have some candy?"

Luka raises an eyebrow. "Where's your costume?"

"I'm a cat. Isn't that obvious?"

"That's a little uninspired."

"Well," Chat says, huffing. "Not all of us are experts at spooky skeleton makeup. That's a nice costume, by the way—I almost didn't recognize you. I was wondering if I had the wrong houseboat."

"Merci, Chat," Luka says. Silently, he wishes he had gone with something a little sexier. He doubts he's very attractive with black-and-white makeup caked on his face. After hours of wear, it's starting to itch a little, and Luka wouldn't be surprised if the paint has a few cracks. "Oh, and feel free to come in. I'm just cleaning up."

Chat slips through the porthole and gracefully lands on the floor. "In my defense," he says, following Luka to the kitchen, "black cats are a signature symbol of Halloween."

"Not very scary, though," Luka comments.

Chat groans. "I'll never understand French people's obsession with scary Halloween costumes. What's wrong with going as something cute?"

Luka presses his lips together and laughs. Because, well—yes. Chat is very cute. Then again, he'd probably be just as cute with zombie teeth or fake blood smeared on his face. His charm is hard to suppress.

"Do you want anything to drink?" Luka asks, moving behind the kitchen counter.

Chat hops onto the green barstool at the end of the counter. "I'm good," he says. "But tell me, monsieur—what's it going to be? A sweet, or a spell?"

"Hm." Luka leans against the counter, considering. Now that Chat is sitting so close, Luka can see that his lips are smudged with chocolate. "It looks like you've already had some sweets."

"Only a few."

Luka's not sure he believes that. Chat doesn't seem like the type of person to do things in moderation. "And you can't go anywhere else for candy?"

"No!" Chat says, his tail standing indignantly behind him. "Marinette cut me off after my twelfth chocolate bar! It's an injustice."

Luka laughs. "I think I'm going to say you get a spell."

Chat's forehead scrunches up, and his lower lip curls into a pout. "You can't do that," he says. "Skeletons don't cast spells."

"I'm told I have magic guitar hands," Luka says. "Does that count?"

"Oh, well, in that case." Chat throws his head back and holds his hand to his forehead, as if he's swooning. "Alas! I am enchanted. You've cast a wicked love spell on me."

"A love spell?" Luka repeats, trying not to blush. He'd been prepared to tease Chat, but if Chat is here to flirt—well, Luka's not too adept at that. He hopes he doesn't say anything stupid.

"Ah, non," Chat says. He leans forward and grabs Luka's arm, eyes glimmering. "Now I can never leave. J'suis _fantômbé _amoureux."

Ghost puns and declarations of love? There's no doubt about it now—Chat is definitely flirting. Luka wonders what his goal is. Candy, probably. He doubts Chat is trying to woo him.

"Maybe I should have cast a spell to stop the bad puns," Luka says.

"Bad?" Chat echoes, aghast. "Luka! I saved my good puns for you! Marinette got _bonbonjour._"

"Oh, wow," Luka says, snorting. "Sorry, Chat. That's pretty bad."

Chat sighs. "I know. She threw a candy bar wrapper at me. I deserved it."

For a moment, Luka manages to keep a straight face. Looking at Chat's forlorn expression, though, he can't stop himself from bursting into laughter.

"And now…" Leaning even closer, Chat traces a clawed finger up Luka's arm. Even through the fabric of Luka's shirt, Chat's touch gives him goosebumps. "Here I am, charmed for eternity by an evil skeleton who won't feed me." He leans forward so far that he's practically sprawled across the counter, then murmurs in Luka's ear, " It's a real tragedy, isn't it?"

"Very tragic," Luka agrees, heart beating a little faster. "Aren't you a little old for trick-or-treating, though?"

Chat pulls back and fixes Luka with wide, imploring eyes. "When I was nine, my father said I was too old for a 'stupid American tradition' like that." He pouts again, his claws still stroking Luka's arm. "Nine, Luka. I haven't had candy in _years._"

Luka's mouth twitches. He knows he's fighting a losing battle—he's almost always incapable of saying _no _to people, and that's doubly true when the person asking him is a cute guy in black leather. "No candy at all?" Luka says. "I find that hard to believe, Chat."

With a sigh, Chat says, "Okay. I haven't had _other people's _candy in years."

Luka tries his best to ignore the feeling of Chat's fingers drawing shapes on his arm. He's not even sure Chat is conscious he's doing it, but his touch is starting to send Luka into a trance. It's steady and repetitive, like mantras for meditation; despite Luka's growing blush, he finds himself being lulled into a strange sort of calm.

Over the years, Luka's learned that music and touch are both languages based on nuance. In music, the same five notes can say twenty different things, depending on how they're played. The same is true for communicating by touch: the weight of someone's touch, the duration, the place they make contact, those all say different things. A touch of the hand could be meaningless, or it could be a declaration of love.

Usually, music and touch make more sense to Luka than words. Right now, though, Luka doesn't know what Chat is trying to say. Chat's casual touches seem too genuine in comparison to his fake swoons and dramatic clutches; it's hard to write them off as part of his "love spell" joke.

Is this just how people flirt? Luka feels like banging his head off the counter in frustration. He doesn't understand this sort of game.

"You're quiet," Chat says. "Have I put _you _under a spell?"

Luka wants to say _yes. _Despite his confusion when it comes to Chat's emotions, he's aware enough of his own feelings to know that he definitely has a crush on the superhero sitting across from him. He's afraid to be too direct, though, so he doesn't say that.

"Maybe," Luka says, smiling. "But, Chat…why are you really here?" With a smirk, Chat opens his mouth to respond, but Luka holds up a hand, stopping him. "Besides trying to get candy, I mean. Someone as outgoing as you—I would have thought you'd be invited to a few parties."

Chat's fingers pause on Luka's arm. "I was invited to one," he says. "But…well, I wasn't allowed to go. Père is pretty strict." He offers Luka a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "The company's better here, anyway."

Luka had heard earlier that the same thing happened to Adrien. Although Luka has never formally met Gabriel Agreste, he's always been concerned by how his strict parenting seems to affect Adrien. Sometimes, whenever Adrien thinks no one is looking, there are moments when his cheerful façade drops—the smiles disappear, and something weary overtakes his features, like clouds briefly passing over the sun.

It hurts Luka's heart to see that same look on Chat's face.

"I'm sorry, Chat," he says.

Chat shrugs, eyes trained on the counter. His fingers move to Luka's hand, tracing the bones painted on his skin. "It is what it is."

"Well," Luka says, "you're welcome to stay here. I was just going to make popcorn and watch scary movies until my mom and sister get home."

Frowning, Chat glances up at Luka. "You're not going to any parties?"

"Nah, I'm not really big on partying. I prefer to stay home and relax."

That's not entirely true, though. While Luka doesn't like parties, he also doesn't usually pass up opportunities to spend time with his friends. In fact, he'd considered going to the party tonight, but it felt wrong knowing that Adrien wasn't allowed to go. And even though Marinette was supposed to be there…well, Luka's feelings toward her are complicated.

He likes Marinette, of course—as most of their mutual friends know, he has a giant crush on her. But lately, the fuzzy feeling he once felt in her presence has been replaced by gnawing anxiety. Even with music and touch, he can't figure out where she stands. Her words are confusing, her actions contradictory, and every time they're together, Luka gets stressed out trying to understand the bizarre thing between them.

So, no, the thought of spending time with Marinette wasn't enough to overcome Luka's distaste for partying.

"Parties aren't that great, anyway," Chat says, interrupting Luka's thoughts. "But, so…I can watch scary movies with you? Really?" He bounces in his seat, claws tapping excitedly against the counter. "I've never had a movie marathon before. Are you sure I can stay?"

Luka laughs at Chat's enthusiasm. "Well, it's not like you have a choice." He wiggles his fingers. "I have you under my love spell, remember?"

"Ah, yes. I almost forgot." Chat sweeps Luka's hand off the counter and brings it to his lips. "Looks like you're stuck with me, mon amour."

"I'm not complaining," Luka says.

Chat drops Luka's hand, his cheeks bright red. "Uh."

Immediately, Luka regrets being so candid. This was what he'd been worried about—he never knows when to be sincere and when to tease, and it almost always leads to awkwardness.

But as he watches Chat rub the back of his neck, his pupils large and entire face light pink…well, Luka doesn't completely regret his honesty. Chat is pretty cute when he blushes.

Smiling, Luka grabs the bowl of candy and moves to put it in the cupboard. That motion seems to snap Chat out of his daze, because he instantly jumps to his feet and scrambles around the counter.

"Wait!" he says, grabbing Luka's arm. "Why are you putting those away? Can't you spare a treat or two?"

"Or twelve?" Luka asks wryly.

"I'll behave," Chat says. "I won't eat too many."

"Is that what you told Marinette, too?"

Chat winks. "Possibly."

With a sigh, Luka offers the bowl to Chat. "You know," he says, "Ladybug's not going to be happy that I gave her cat cavities."

"I'm a stray," Chat says, picking through the miniature chocolate bars. "I'm not anyone's cat."

That surprises Luka—he'd expected Chat to agree and say that he belongs to his lady. Aren't the two of them a couple? At the very least, Luka's pretty sure that Chat is in love with Ladybug. It seems odd that he'd suggest he's on the market.

Chat plucks several peppermint chocolate candies from the bowl, then adds, "Though, if you _wanted _to adopt me, there's just a small adoption fee."

"Is it chocolate?" Luka guesses.

Grinning, Chat holds up his hand, candies pinched between his fingers. "Consider me yours."

"My laptop's on the couch," Luka says, gesturing to the blue sectional across the room. "You can set it on one of those boxes."

Chat nods, then grabs the candy bowl and carries it with him to the couch. Luka's not surprised—he never really expected Chat to keep his promise of _I won't eat too many._

Luka smiles as he retrieves a bag of popcorn from the cupboard and places it in the microwave. There's something endearing about Chat's wide-eyed excitement. Luka loves Halloween, of course, but he can't recall the last time he got that excited about candy or movies.

And Chat's enthusiasm is contagious, like a song that Luka can't help but nod along to. He finds himself rocking onto the balls of his feet and back, impatient for the popcorn to finish popping.

"Whoa," Chat says, when Luka sits next to him and sets the popcorn bowl between them. "Popcorn, candy, _and _movies? You're spoiling me."

Luka's smile falters. Just how restricted is Chat's social life, that he's excited by something like this? Most teenagers wouldn't bat an eye at eating junk food and watching movies.

He tries not to let his concern show, though. He wants Chat to enjoy himself.

Once Luka's pulled up the first movie and hit _play, _he turns to study Chat. That profile—the shape of his nose, his cheekbones, his smile—it's hard to tell with the mask in the way, but…

Luka tries not to think about this sort of thing too much, since he knows secret identities are secret for a reason; but still, there are times where he really can't help but think that Chat Noir is Adrien Agreste. Aside from the physical similarities, they have too many other things in common: busy schedules, overbearing fathers, adorably bad puns. And of course, Adrien's disappearances always line up with Chat Noir's appearances. That seems too uncanny to be a coincidence.

Also, if Luka and Chat are friends on the other side of the mask, that would explain why Chat seems to take such an interest in him. Otherwise, the two of them haven't interacted that much, and it's strange that Chat would be so comfortable around a random civilian.

Belatedly, it occurs to Luka that if he really is sitting next to Adrien Agreste, then that means he's sitting next to Adrien Agreste in a skintight leather cat costume.

Oh. Right. Maybe _that's _why Luka tries not to think about Chat Noir's secret identity too much.

Face burning, Luka turns to the laptop screen and tries to pay attention to the opening scene of the movie.

Throughout the first part of the movie, Chat continues to sneak chocolates from the candy bowl. It's hard to tell just how many he's eaten, though, since he throws the wrappers back into the bowl. Luka has a feeling the bowl is a lot emptier than it looks.

Luka doesn't like candy that much, but he briefly considers the possibility of reaching into the bowl and orchestrating an "accidental" hand touch. As soon as the thought crosses his mind, though, he dismisses it as stupid. Even if he pulled it off, Chat would probably think it was weird and forced.

He reaches for the popcorn instead. As he does, his hand bumps into Chat's.

"Oh!" Chat says, yanking his hand away. "Sorry. You first."

Luka sees an opening. "And what if I wasn't reaching for the popcorn?"

Chat makes a squeaking sound that's more reminiscent of a mouse than a cat. "Then you, uh—missed the candy bowl?"

With a laugh, Luka shakes his head. "That's not what I meant."

Waggling his eyebrows, Chat leans across the bowl toward Luka. "Well, if you wanted to hold my hand, monsieur, all you had to do was ask."

Luka silently curses Chat's quick recovery. For a second, he'd thought he was on top of this flirting business. "I was reaching for the popcorn," he admits.

Something briefly flashes through Chat's eyes. With the sclerae, though, they're not as easy to read as a human's. "Well," he says, leaning back. "I guess a cat shouldn't get his hopes up."

"Did you want me to hold your hand?" Luka asks.

"No," Chat grumbles. He crosses his arms, tucking his hands beneath his armpits, and fixes his gaze on the laptop screen. "Of course not. If you hold my hand, I can't eat any more candy."

Chat's words give Luka an idea. Maybe he can still salvage his failed attempt at flirting.

He waits for Chat to give in to temptation—and he doesn't wait long, since Chat only lasts two scenes before reaching for the candy bowl again. When he does, Luka's hand shoots out like a striking snake, grabbing Chat's wrist and holding it tight.

Chat frowns. "Yes?"

Channeling calm, Luka raises his eyebrows. "I'm monitoring your sugar intake."

Forehead creased, Chat tugs his hand down toward the candy bowl. In response, Luka threads his fingers through Chat's, then holds up their joined hands.

"Luka," Chat says. "I need my hand to grab candy."

"I know," Luka says. "You said that if I hold your hand, you can't eat any more candy." He nods to their hands. "This is me cutting you off."

Chat stares at Luka like he's stepped on his tail. "But—"

"Chat," Luka says, "I'm pretty sure you've eaten half that bowl in less than an hour. Do you want to make yourself sick?"

"No," Chat says. He stares at the bowl longingly. "Maybe just one more—"

"No more," Luka says. "Not for a little while."

Pouting, Chat leans back against the couch and goes back to watching the movie. "I could use my other hand, you know," he mumbles.

"How would you unwrap the candy?"

Chat's eyes flick over to Luka, then back to the laptop. There's a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You could just move the bowl instead of holding my hand."

Luka smiles and shrugs. "I could."

For the rest of the movie, their hands rest together over the bowls of popcorn and candy. Luka tries not to overthink the feel of Chat's fingers against his, and for the most part, he succeeds. He can feel his face burning with a blush, though. He hopes it's not too visible in the dim light of the room.

The movie ends, and Luka pulls up the next one, still holding Chat's hand. That ends about five minutes later, though, when the first jump scare sends Chat catapulting out of his seat with a yowl. Luka scrambles to stop the bowls from falling onto the ground.

"Sorry," Chat says, ears flattened against his head. "I'm not scared this easily when I'm untransformed. I think it's a cat thing."

Luka pats Chat's thigh. "It's okay. I've seen these movies a dozen times, and they still make me jump sometimes." He sets the candy and popcorn bowls on top of a nearby amp, just in case the movie makes Chat jump again. "Do you want me to warn you when the jump scares are about to happen?"

"No, no, I can handle it," Chat says. "I'm a superhero. It takes more than special effects and sinister chords to scare me."

Apparently it doesn't, though, because the same thing happens again three scenes later. And when the monster appears for the first time, Chat dives toward Luka and buries his face in his shoulder.

"Zut," Chat says. "Why does it have so many _teeth?"_

Luka wraps an arm around Chat's shoulders and gives him a comforting squeeze. "Do you want to watch something less scary? I have _The Nightmare Before Christmas, _if you want."

Chat shakes his head. "I'm fine."

But he spends the next two movies cuddled up against Luka, knees pulled up to his chest, cheek resting on Luka's shoulder. Whenever something scary happens—which is often, since they _are _watching horror movies—Chat turns his head and presses his nose to Luka's neck, claws digging into Luka's upper arm.

Luka doesn't offer to stop the movies a second time. He figures that, for one reason or another, Chat wants to keep watching them. Whether that reason is that he's trying to prove his bravery, or that he wants an excuse to cling to Luka…well, Luka can't be sure, but he's hoping it's the latter.

At some point, Luka's hand moves from Chat's shoulder to his head, absentmindedly stroking his unruly hair. Sometimes, when his fingers move close to Chat's ears, Luka swears he hears a quiet purr coming from Chat's chest. He's not sure that's possible, though, so he thinks he might be imagining it.

Halfway through the third movie, it almost seems like Chat has fallen asleep. The last two jump scares have come and gone without causing any reaction, and from what Luka can see, it looks like Chat's eyes are closed.

Lulled by the warmth of Chat's body, Luka lets his eyes flutter shut. It's not a good idea to fall asleep here, since he's not sure how he'd explain this to his mother or sister, but Chat's body is so warm and soft against his. Luka feels a little like he's floating. There's a song for this feeling, if he could just grasp it—except his thoughts are muddled, his brain fuzzy, and…

A beeping sound from his phone startles him awake. Groggily, Luka digs his phone out of his pocket and glances at his screen.

"Chat," Luka says.

Blinking sleepily, Chat slowly sits up. "Huh?"

His hair is even messier than usual, which somehow makes him ten times cuter. Luka fights back the urge to run his fingers through it. "There's an akuma," he tells Chat.

Nodding, Chat sluggishly gets to his feet. Luka thinks he's maybe moving a little too slowly for a superhero who's just been told _there's a villain you need to fight—_but then again, if someone had told Luka he had to abandon cuddling with Chat to go fight an akuma, he'd probably take his time, too.

"Ugh." Chat stretches his arms above his head. "I guess I'd better go." He leans over, reaching for the forgotten candy bowl. "A few more for the road—"

"Chat," Luka says, touching Chat's arm. "You're going to get sick."

Chat pulls his hand away and presses it to his chest. "But monsieur! I need something sweet, or else I won't have enough energy to fight this akuma. I just woke up from a nap, you know."

Oh, yes. Luka knows. Having a cute guy fall asleep on him has essentially turned his brain into a Barbara Hannigan _Mysteries of the Macabre _performance.

Trying to maintain a calm façade, Luka stands and grabs the candy bowl. "I think you have enough sugar in your system already," he says, carrying the bowl to the kitchen.

"Hm," Chat says. "Well, I suppose there's something else sweet you could give me."

Luka sets the bowl down, raising an eyebrow. He thinks he knows what Chat is implying, and it's threatening to make his face turn bright red. "And what's that?"

Chat taps his lips. "You see, it's not _quite _as good as candy…"

"Are you talking about a kiss?"

With a wink, Chat says, "Your love spell is quite potent, Monsieur Couffaine. Or had you forgotten you charmed this cat?"

"You want me to kiss you so that you can fight the akuma?" Luka clarifies.

Outwardly, he's as calm as ever: his voice is steady, his posture relaxed. Mentally, though, he feels like he just slammed into a brick wall. He thinks he must have fallen asleep on the couch and dreamed this up. Awkward guys like Luka don't have their superhero crushes ask them for a good luck kiss. Not in real life.

"Well, you don't _have _to." Chat leans closer, hands clasped behind his back. "But it might help me fight a little bit better."

Luka's first thought is to step back and analyze the situation, the way he might if he was Viperion using Second Chance. Except he's _not _Viperion right now, and there are a million ways this could go, and Luka has no way to explore any of those options.

His second thought is to follow his instincts. And his instincts say, _Why not? It's Halloween! _

That excuse makes no sense—until it does. Because it's Halloween, which means he's not Luka Couffaine right now. He's a magical skeleton. It makes perfect sense for him to kiss Chat Noir.

With a shrug, Luka grabs the back of Chat's neck and pulls their lips together.

The kiss is slow, chaste—but it lasts several seconds, which makes it impossible for either one of them to claim it was a harmless peck. It's enough time for Chat's hands to grip Luka's waist. It's enough time for Luka's fingers to run through Chat's hair. And it's enough time for Luka to decide that Chat's candy addiction isn't so bad after all, because it makes his lips taste like chocolate and peppermint.

Then Chat's baton rings with a call from Ladybug, and Luka pulls back, lips tingling.

Chat stares at him as the call goes to voicemail. Luka's black lipstick is smudged on his lips, and his mouth moves wordlessly for a few seconds until he manages to mutter something about _magic guitar lips._

Luka smiles. "I guess you should hurry and beat that akuma, before the sugar high wears off."

Chat nods, then sprints toward the steps. He neglects to turn, though, and ends up running straight into the door.

"Chat!" Luka says. "Are you okay?"

"I'm great!" Chat says, clutching his forehead. "Fantastic."

Eyes covered, he turns to his right and trips up the stairs.

"Joyeuse Halloween!" Luka calls after him.

"YES," Chat yells, as he bangs and thuds his way out of the Liberty. "C'est—ween—joyeuse! Lo. LOWEEN. _Hallow. _HALLOWEEN. JOYEUSE." From the top of stairs, he says something else Luka doesn't quite catch, though he's pretty sure it's _magic guitar lips _again.

Then Chat is gone, and the houseboat is silent once more.

Alone in the kitchen, Luka touches his lips. With burning cheeks and the taste of sugar on his tongue, he feels a little like _he's _the one under a love spell. He's not sure what else could have inspired him to kiss Chat Noir.

Smiling to himself, he takes a peppermint chocolate from the candy bowl. He doesn't know exactly what's come over him, but if it is a love spell…at least it's a sweet one.

* * *

**Translations:**

Des bonbons ou un sort! – Trick or treat!  
J'suis tombé amoureux – I've fallen in love; fantôme – ghost  
bonjour – hello; bonbon – candy/sweet  
mon amour – my love  
zut – dang it  
Joyeuse Halloween! – Happy Halloween!


	2. Secret Ingredient

As usual, translations are at the end of the chapter!

* * *

**Secret Ingredient  
(Thanksgiving)**

On a chilly Thursday in November, Luka Couffaine sits on his bed and composes yet another song about green eyes and soft lips. Despite the cold outside, his porthole window is cracked open—because every time he plays one of these songs, he stupidly hopes that a certain superhero will come by and overhear them.

The songs don't have any words, of course. No one listening to them would know exactly what they're about. But Luka knows. It's been four weeks, and he still can't get his Halloween encounter with Chat Noir out of his head.

He'd _kissed _him. And while it wasn't the first time that Luka had kissed someone, it was the first time he'd kissed a guy—a guy who could be Adrien Agreste, or a complete stranger who Luka's never met.

Luka usually wouldn't be bothered by that sort of thing, but romance is hard enough for him without throwing secret identities into the mix. Say Adrien _is _Chat Noir: is Luka supposed to flirt with him on both sides of the mask? If he only flirts with one of them, then Adrien will probably worry that Luka doesn't like both sides of him. Then again, if Luka flirts with both of them, Adrien might think that Luka's being insincere and doesn't really like him. And of course, if Adrien _isn't _Chat Noir, then Luka would monumentally screw up by flirting with both of them.

At that thought, Luka's fingers slip, and his perfect fourth ends up being a tritone. The interval twangs unhappily in the air. _Lovely._

"Is the song supposed to go like that?" a voice asks.

Luka jumps, turning to the window. He almost can't believe his eyes. "Chat Noir!"

As if Luka's thoughts have summoned him, Chat is there, his head poking through the window, his claws clinging to the sill. He must be hanging off the side of the boat.

"Sorry," Chat says, ducking so that only his green eyes peek over the window sill. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"No, don't worry about it," Luka says, setting down his guitar. He tries to ignore the slight disappointment he feels—of course the one time Chat heard Luka's song, Luka had to play it incorrectly. "Do you want to come in?"

"I do, but…I didn't think this through." Chat lifts one of his hands slightly, showing a handle draped over it. "I don't know if my bag will fit through the window."

Luka raises an eyebrow. "Are you paying me back for all the candy you stole on Halloween?"

Chat fakes a gasp. "I didn't steal it! You gave it to me!"

_You also gave him a kiss, _Luka's mind reminds him. He shushes it. "You can go above deck and use the stairs to get down here. You just missed maman and Juleka."

"How fortunate," Chat says, but Luka wonders if Chat planned that. "I'll be right back, then."

He clambers up the side of the boat, giving Luka a glimpse of an insulated grocery bag. It doesn't look like the sort of thing that would be holding candy.

Sighing, Luka wanders into the living room to meet Chat. A few seconds later, Chat hops down the stairs, swinging his bag at his side.

"I'm back!" Chat says. "Now, guess what today is."

Luka's brain is moving slower than usual, trying to figure out the reason behind Chat's visit. "Thursday?"

Chat snorts. "You're not wrong. But I was thinking something a little more specific."

Luka glances at the bag. It probably holds a few answers. "What's in the bag?"

"Pumpkin pie and cranberry sauce," Chat says. "Now make another guess."

After a moment of trying and failing to think of something, Luka laughs. "Sorry, Chat. I have no idea," he says. "National Pie Day?"

"Close," Chat says. "It's Thanksgiving!"

Luka squints at Chat for a few seconds, his brain struggling to form a coherent word out of the sounds Chat just made. Then he recognizes it. "Wait. France doesn't celebrate Thanksgiving."

"Yes, and that's a crime," Chat says, "because apparently it's an excellent excuse to gorge on delicious food."

"Is that what you've brought?" Luka says, unable to keep an amused smile off his face. "Delicious food?"

"Well." Chat hugs the bag to his chest, his ears flattening slightly. "I—maybe?" He laughs and holds the bag behind his back. "On second thought, it might be better if we just go to a bakery and buy a pie."

"Did you make it?" Luka asks, surprised.

He's not necessarily shocked that Chat managed to bake something—although really, since Chat wields the power of destruction, Luka wouldn't be surprised if Chat ends up causing chaos in the kitchen. No, what surprises him is the fact that Chat might have bothered to bake a pie for a holiday that their country doesn't even celebrate.

"Well," Chat says. "That depends if it's good?"

Luka smiles. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about. If you did, I'm impressed."

"Right, ah—yes," Chat says. "Marinette taught me, actually. She helped me bake one pie for practice, and then I made this one by myself. Or, well, almost by myself. She still helped with the crust, and supervised me to make sure I didn't ruin it. But I made the filling and baked it by myself!" He grimaces. "I don't have much experience in the kitchen, so I was worried I'd mess up…but I think it turned out alright."

Many weeks ago, when Luka was a different man, he would have said that a pastry baked by Marinette Dupain-Cheng was the sweetest thing on earth. Now, he realizes that's only because he never contemplated a pastry baked by Chat Noir.

"You baked me a pie?" Luka says stupidly.

"Yes," Chat says. "Well, I—I mean, I baked it for us. Uh. For Thanksgiving. I baked Thanksgiving a pie." He squeezes his eyes shut, cheeks turning pink. "I guess I baked you a pie, yes."

Chat baked a pie for him. Is he…is he _wooing_ Luka? From everything about love and romance that Luka's learned over the years, he doesn't remember pies being a standard part of the courtship process. Then again, nothing about this is standard. He feels like the pie probably counts for something.

"I'm flattered," Luka says. "But going off experience…I'm guessing you want something _sweet _in return?"

"No!" Chat says, his cheeks now bright red. "No, the pie is free." He opens the bag and digs around until he finds something, then pulls it out. It looks like a V-shaped bone. "I also have this."

"A fake bone?"

"A fake _wishbone. _But that's for later."

Luka decides to play along. He's sure Chat has some sort of scheme up his sleeve—it's Chat, after all—but he'll worry about that when the time comes.

Chat sets the bag on the kitchen counter and glances back toward Luka's bedroom. "So, that song I interrupted earlier—is that a new one you're working on?"

"Yeah," Luka says. "And to answer your question from earlier, no, that tritone wasn't supposed to happen."

"Well, they say it's the devil's interval," Chat says, leaning against the counter. "Your magic guitar hands must've sensed the power of destruction coming."

Luka laughs. "Maybe that's it."

"Can I hear it?" Chat says. "Unless you don't want me to. I'm curious, is all. I'm quite the fan of yours."

"You are?"

Chat nods. "I've heard Kitty Section play a few times. I admit, I initially became curious because of the name…" He smirks. "Are you a fan of cats, Luka?"

"Certain ones," Luka says. "Hold on. I'll go get my guitar."

He retrieves his guitar from his bedroom and hops onto one of the kitchen stools. Even though the guitar is already tuned, he spends a minute fiddling with the pegs and playing intervals, aware that Chat's eyes are glued to his every movement.

Luka's not sure why he's suddenly so shy. He almost never gets stage fright when it comes to playing guitar. He grew up knowing that music doesn't have to be perfect—in fact, that music is _never _perfect (although a case could probably be made for Bohemian Rhapsody). So, he's not worried about making a mistake. And yet, he finds himself delaying the song.

He takes a deep breath, holds it, and exhales. "Okay. I'm still working on it, so it's only partly finished. But here's what I have so far."

Once Luka starts playing, he forgets that he has an audience; he becomes absorbed in the song, fingers finding their way across notes and chords with ease. It starts out idyllic, sweet—reminiscent of a Renaissance song for the lute. Occasionally, the tune turns darker and heavier, minor chords and low growls from the bassline. That's Luka's love life before this confusion with Chat: frustrating, sweet but painful, with Marinette constantly pulling him closer and pushing him away.

Then Chat enters, and the song becomes chaotic. It's mischievous, odd leaps and intervals, yanking Luka around in an entirely different way. Unlike Marinette, Chat is consistent; but Luka can't tell if he's sincere or just a flirt, and so the song is a mess of grace notes and slides, never resting too long on a single note or chord.

The song stops abruptly when Luka gets to the unfinished section. He lowers the guitar and blinks, coming out of his daze. "I haven't written the rest yet," he tells Chat.

"It sounds amazing," Chat says. "Is it about something, or…?"

Luka smiles. "Every song is about something, Chat."

"Is it about…some_one?"_

"Maybe," Luka says, holding Chat's gaze.

Chat stiffens, eyes wide. "R-right! So, food. Do you have plates and utensils? I forgot to bring those."

"Sure," Luka says. He's relieved to have something else to focus on. "What do you need?"

"Plates, forks, and cups," Chat says. "And a knife or something."

Luka opens a cupboard and pulls out the dinnerware Chat requested. He grabs most of the things at random, though he specifically picks out a green plate for Chat—for his eyes, of course.

His very bright, very pretty eyes. Luka fights back a blush. He wishes his brain would stop getting hung up on those eyes.

"Hm," Chat says, as Luka sets the plates and cups on the counter. "Is there a reason none of this matches?"

"Have you met my mother?" Luka says. "Uniformity is a sin around here."

"Ah, that explains the décor."

Luka shrugs. "She likes the lived-in look."

"I kind of like it, too," Chat says. He pulls out a bottle of apple cider and places it on the counter. "It's definitely cozier than my house."

"What's your house like?" Luka asks, twisting off the cap and pouring two glasses of cider.

Chat frowns as he places a covered pie plate and can of cranberry sauce next to the cups of cider. "Minimalist. Big and empty." He sighs. "If I'm being honest, it doesn't feel like anyone lives there."

Well, that definitely sounds like Adrien's house. Luka remembers being there once and thinking it looked more like an office or museum than a home. "That's too bad."

"It's fine," Chat says, though his brow is furrowed. "I try to get out as often as I can." He wiggles the finger wearing his Miraculous. "My ring helps with that."

Luka tries not to scowl. "You need your Miraculous to get out of the house? You can't just leave?"

Chat winces. "Well…no. Like I said last time, my father is strict. He doesn't usually give me permission to go out and have fun."

"That's not fair," Luka says, and once again, he can't help but think of Adrien. "You're a teenager, not some exotic pet that needs to be locked up."

Chat stares at Luka, eyes wide. "Oh," he says. "I, uh—are you angry?"

Luka huffs. "Not at you. At your father."

"Mm." Chat delicately lifts the lid off his pie plate. "It's fine. But you know…" He glances up, eyes glimmering with mischief. "Technically, I am a rare pet. A cat my size, who can talk and use magic…" He leans across the counter toward Luka, abandoning the pie. "You don't see those every day."

Willing himself not to blush, Luka leans forward as well. "No, I don't," he says. "So maybe you need to come by more often."

Chat's mouth stretches into a grin. "Maybe I do."

They stare at each other for a moment, as if they're both waiting for something. Luka wonders if Chat is going to kiss him again. While he's not sure how he feels about that, maybe it would be easier to finish his song if he got another taste of those lips.

Clearing his throat, Chat leans back and grabs the knife Luka's laid out. "Okay," he says, turning to the pie. "How big of a piece do you want?"

Luka's eyes go to the pie. It looks surprisingly normal: lightly browned crust, orange filling that's darker around the edges. "You know," he says, "I don't think I've ever had pumpkin pie before."

"Me neither," Chat says. "That is, until the first pie Marinette and I made. So I guess this is my second time having it."

The mention of Marinette doesn't necessarily make Luka jealous—but it reminds him that he's not the only civilian Chat is visiting. Does that mean this thing between them is casual? Or does Chat treat him differently than other civilians?

Not for the first time, he wishes that Chat wasn't so hard to read. Even with all of Luka's empathic skills, he can't always tell what the superhero is thinking.

"Luka?" Chat says.

"Oh," Luka says. "Sorry. An eighth, I guess."

For some reason, that makes Chat smile. "Fractions! See, this is why you're my favorite. You understand me." Cutting the pie, Chat adds, "Marinette kept making triangles with her hand and saying things like _two forks wide._" Chat looks up at Luka, forehead creased. "What does that even _mean?"_

"As wide as two forks?"

"Yes, but where?" Chat says. One hand on his hip, he wags the knife at Luka. "At the base of the slice? The middle? And salad fork, or dinner fork?" He shakes his head and scoops Luka's slice onto a plate. "That's far too imprecise for me."

Luka laughs. It's cute that Chat is so distressed about pie proportions. "It doesn't have to be exact," Luka says. "It will taste the same no matter what."

"True," Chat says, "but I don't want to shortchange you." He turns to the can of cranberry sauce and pulls back the tab, peeling open the lid. "Do you like cranberry sauce? I had to search an international store for this kind, so I don't know how good it is."

"I'm not sure," Luka says. "Are we supposed to put it on something?"

Chat pauses, tongue sticking out slightly. "Uh. I'm not sure. I thought we could just eat it on its own?"

"I'm sure we can," Luka says. "But I'm also pretty sure you're supposed to eat it on the turkey."

"Sorry," Chat says. "As much as I like you, I wasn't going to cook an entire turkey for Thanksgiving."

"Hm," Luka says. "Isn't that the main course in America, though? I'm questioning how committed you are to this holiday, Chat."

Chat gapes at him. "I baked a _pie _for you! Do you know how many things I've baked in my life?" He holds up a hand before Luka can respond. "None. Consider yourself special, monsieur. Before I baked this pie, I'd never touched an oven before."

Luka's speechless for a moment. Chat has never used an oven before? And he went to that trouble for _him? _Luka's a bit mystified. He can't imagine what made Chat think he was worth baking a pie for.

"I appreciate it, Chat," Luka says. "Really. No one's ever baked me a pie before."

"W-well," Chat says, his cheeks pink. "I did."

"You did," Luka says smiling.

"I did," Chat says again. He shakes his head. "I—um, I said that already."

Blushing, Chat spoons some cranberry sauce onto Luka's plate and his, then serves himself a slightly smaller slice of pie. Luka wonders if that's an etiquette thing.

Then Chat brings his plate around the counter and climbs onto the stool next to Luka's. "Now," he says. "Before we eat, we have to say what we're thankful for."

"Is that part of the tradition?" Luka asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know!" Chat says. "But it's right there in the name."

Luka laughs. "Alright." He turns to face Chat, knees brushing his. "I'll go first. Let me see…first, I'm thankful for this pie." Chat laughs, and Luka finds himself joining in. "And I'm thankful for my friends," Luka says. "Including you, Chat. I'm glad we're part of each other's lives."

And it's true. As strange and unpredictable as their dynamic is, Luka welcomes it.

Chat blinks, pupils so large that there's hardly any green in his eyes. "I—uh—me too," he says, smiling shyly. "I'm grateful for you, Luka. And my other friends!" He turns to his plate, and from what Luka can see, Chat is blushing again. "But especially you."

Luka smiles at Chat. "I'm glad."

Chat glances over, still uncharacteristically bashful. "Same."

"So…" Luka turns to the plate in front of him. "I can eat my pie now?"

"Wait!" Chat says. "Let me try it first, to make sure it's not horrible."

"Too slow," Luka says, taking a bite. The pie is sweet and light, the crust firm and buttery. "Chat, what are you worried about? This is really good."

He looks over at Chat to find him cowering behind his hands, peeking out between his fingers. "It is?"

"Try it and see," Luka says.

"I don't know," Chat says, slowly lowering his hands. "If I don't eat it, I won't know if you're lying or not."

Sighing, Luka puts down his fork and picks up Chat's. "I wouldn't lie to you," he says, scooping pie onto the fork. He holds it up for Chat to take. "Try it?"

Chat's eyes cross to focus on the fork in front of his nose. "You wouldn't lie?" he says. "If it was bad, you'd really tell me that?"

Luka hesitates. "Well…maybe not." Usually, he's honest to a fault—but if it made Chat smile, he'd probably lie. He couldn't bear to see him upset. "But it really is good, Chat."

Delicately, Chat leans forward and bites the piece of pie off the fork. He chews for a moment, and then his eyes light up. "Oh! You're right. I didn't ruin it."

"Do I have to feed you the rest?" Luka asks, trying not to laugh.

"Mince alors!" Chat says. "N-no. I know how to use a fork." He hastily snatches the fork from Luka's hand and turns back to his pie.

"Are you sure?" Luka says. He nudges Chat's shoulder. "If I have to feed you, I can."

Chat scowls. "Now you're _trying _to make me blush."

"I'd say I'm succeeding," Luka says, pointing to Chat's cheek. "Unless you're wearing blush."

"Not at the moment," Chat mumbles. He shoves another piece of pie in his mouth. "Eat your pie, Couffaine."

Chat sometimes wears makeup, then. _Adrien Agreste, _Luka's mind whispers. He takes another bite of pie to distract himself. "Mm. I meant what I said, Chat. This is delicious."

"Ah, well." Chat smirks. "That must be the secret ingredient Marinette told me to use."

"And what's that?"

Chat leans a little closer. "L'amour, obviously."

"Love?" Luka repeats.

Chat blinks, and his eyes widen. "N-no! Uh." He fumbles with his fork. "I mean. L'amaretto?"

Luka squints at him. "You put liqueur in the pie?"

"No!" Chat says. "Pumpkin."

"The secret ingredient in your pumpkin pie is…pumpkin?"

"I lied," Chat says, his entire face the brightest red Luka's ever seen. "There's no secret ingredient."

"You didn't lie about the pumpkin, though, did you?"

"I don't think so."

Laughing, Luka shakes his head and goes back to eating his pie. Once he and Chat have finished their pie and scraped the last bit of cranberry sauce from their plates—or, in Chat's case, licked it off—Chat retrieves the fake wishbone from his bag.

"Now for the grand finale," he says, winking.

"What are we going to do with a fake bone?" Luka asks.

"Break it," Chat says. "We both hold one side of it while making a wish, and then we snap it between the two of us. Whoever gets the longer piece, their wish comes true."

Luka scrutinizes the fake wishbone. "Is that really a thing?"

"Yes!" Chat says, sounding offended. "I think some people in France do it when they eat turkey, too. But I didn't make it up."

"Okay." Luka would rather be holding Chat's hand than a fake bone, but he reaches out and lightly grips one side of the wishbone. "So I just…pull?"

Chat nods. "Yeah." He shifts in his seat so that he and Luka are facing each other. Their legs press together between the stools, and Luka has the sudden desire to close the distance between them. "I'm ready when you are."

"One second," Luka says, collecting his thoughts.

A wish? He's not sure that he has one. Having a wish would mean that there's something he wants to change about his life, and Luka has never been the sort of person to dwell on what he doesn't have.

He glances at Chat, who's staring at the wishbone with a sparkle in his eye. Luka's not sure exactly what Chat's civilian life is like, but it sounds strict, unsupportive, stifling. He wishes that Chat didn't have to put on a mask to feel free.

Luka decides that will be his wish—that Chat can be free and happy.

"Alright," Luka says. "On three?"

Chat nods. "One, two...three!"

Luka tugs lightly on the bone. At first, it doesn't give, so he pulls harder until the bone snaps in two.

Chat grins, holding up the longer piece. "Looks like I win."

Luka laughs. "Did you look up how to win this?"

"No," Chat says, but his glimmering eyes say _yes. _"Now, to make my wish. Hm…let's see…"

All too late, understanding dawns on Luka. "Oh?" he says, feigning calm. "I wonder, what could you _possibly _have wished for?"

"I can't say," Chat says, tapping a finger against his lips. "That's bad luck, and then my wish won't come true."

"Aren't black cats supposed to bring bad luck?" Luka asks. "Maybe it will cancel out."

"Non!" Chat says. "I'm not risking it." He sets the bone down, and one of his hands snakes out to grip Luka's arm. Leaning forward, he says, "I'll just have to hope that maybe, possibly…" He pauses, lips centimeters from Luka's, eyes half-lidded. "…my wish comes true?"

Luka can't deny that he feels a bit stupid for ignoring the signs. He should have guessed that Chat wasn't _just _visiting to celebrate an American holiday. Then again, he's not sure he could have predicted that a broken bone would lead to a second kiss. It's a little unconventional.

Ah, but on the Liberty, aren't things supposed to be unconventional? Luka would be going against his family's entire philosophy if he refused to kiss Chat right now. And Chat _did _win the wishbone break. That means his wish has to come true.

Steadying his nerves, Luka sets his half of the bone on the counter. Then he cups Chat's face in his hands and closes the distance between them.

Chat's lips are as soft and warm as he remembers. A stray curl of his hair brushes against one of Luka's hands, and he catches it in his fingers, twirling it as they kiss.

Luka's wish might not have won, but maybe, for a few seconds, he can make it come true anyway. He wants this kiss to make Chat feel warm and safe. He wants it to show Chat that he's wanted.

And so he tries to make it last, holding Chat's face close to his as their lips press together. All too soon, though, he can feel it ending. Their lips part, and they both start to pull away—and then Luka dives back in, kissing Chat a second time.

He's surprised himself, and he must surprise Chat, too, because he makes a muffled sound against Luka's lips. But he doesn't push Luka away. Instead, he grips Luka's arms and holds his hands in place, continuing the kiss for a few seconds more.

Finally, when Luka knows he can't prolong the kiss any more without raising some questions, he pulls back.

Chat looks dazed, his eyes slightly unfocused. His grip on Luka's forearms goes lax, and his mouth moves wordlessly for a few moments. "Uh."

Luka blinks. "I…wasn't sure how many kisses you wished for."

"You taste like pumpkin," Chat says. Then he slaps a hand over his mouth. "Forget I said that," he mumbles.

Luka's cheeks are warm. "Sure." He doesn't add what he's thinking—that Chat tasted like pumpkin, too.

The two of them sit in silence for a minute. Then Chat claps his hands and picks up the knife lying in the pie plate. "Do you want another slice?"

"Yeah," Luka says. "Thank you, Chat."

Chat glances at him out of the corner of his eye. "For the pie, or the kiss?"

"For the pumpkin," Luka says, smiling.

After all, he has a feeling that Chat's secret ingredient is what made those kisses taste so sweet.

* * *

**Translations:**

maman – mom  
l'amour – love  
amaretto – a sweet liqueur  
Mince alors! – Oh geez!


	3. Warm Inside

**A/N: **Just a reminder that this series is completely unrelated to my _Missing the Third _fics! In that series, Adrien still hasn't realized he has a crush on Luka, and the two have not kissed yet. Also, happy holidays!

* * *

**Warm Inside  
****(Christmas)**

Christmas, as Luka often has to explain to his friends, is a bit different on the Liberty.

There's certainly room for a Christmas tree on the deck of the houseboat, but for the past several years, Anarka Couffaine has opted for a different decoration: a seven-foot-tall Krampus figure, complete with giant horns, bells, and a whip.

Luka long ago decided to just go with it, but that doesn't make it any easier to explain to people when they visit.

Worse, his mother keeps changing her mind about where she wants to put the statue. First it was by the ramp of the boat, then over by the lounge chairs. On Christmas evening, as Luka climbs up the stairs toward the deck of the boat, he wonders where the statue will be lurking this time.

He also wonders if Chat Noir will be visiting. It seems that Chat has made a habit of visiting during the holidays, and now, Luka finds himself hoping that they'll get to spend a few minutes of Christmas together.

Deep in thought, Luka emerges onto the chilly deck and immediately gives a little jump. It's the damn Krampus statue, of course, now watching over the staircase.

He sighs and pats its furry shoulder. "Joyeux Noël, Krampus."

A moment later, a dark figure lands on the deck of the boat, startling Luka again. Before he can wonder _is this another Krampus,_ the newcomer lets out a yowl and leaps about a meter into the air.

It's a little impressive. Krampus has never made Luka jump that high—but then, Luka doesn't have cat-themed superpowers.

"Salut, Chat," Luka says. "Do you like our Christmas decorations?"

Chat curses in what sounds like several different languages. "What _is _that thing?"

"Krampus," Luka says. His mouth twitches as he tries to hold back a laugh. "You're not a fan?"

Chat stares at Luka with wide eyes full of betrayal. "Why, Luka?" he says. "Why would anyone have this—this—"

"It was maman's idea," Luka says. He pats Krampus's furry shoulder again. "He's been a member of the family for several years now."

Chat leans on his staff, contemplating the statue. "Does that mean we have to invite him to our wedding?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Hm." Luka pokes one of Krampus's clawed hands. "He could maybe be a ring bearer."

Chat grimaces at the statue. "Super." He turns his attention back to Luka. "I'm not interrupting your holiday, I hope?"

"Of course not," Luka says. "We already ate and opened presents. I just…came upstairs to see Krampus, I guess. And to look for you."

Chat's eyes widen. "You—you were looking for me?" He frowns. "And _this?"_

Luka laughs. "You shouldn't disrespect Krampus. He's a traditional Christmas figure, the same as Père Noël."

Chat scrutinizes Luka. "Why does it sound like you've given this speech before?"

Luka sighs. "You're not the first person to ask about Krampus."

"Well," Chat says, "I guess he's a good conversation starter for dates. Have you shown your Krampus statue to any cute guys or girls, lately?"

Luka regards Chat for a moment, forming his response. There are times, like now, that Chat gives him emotional whiplash—thirty seconds ago, he was joking about marrying Luka, and now he seems worried that Luka might be seeing people. Luka can see the anxiety in the crease of Chat's forehead, can hear it in the uneasiness of his voice.

Apparently Chat is just as confused about this thing between them as Luka is.

"Just one," Luka finally says, smiling. "But I don't think he's a fan."

"I can't blame him." Chat's ears droop slightly, even as he pastes a smile on his face. "Krampus is a little scary."

"Chat," Luka says. "I was talking about you."

"Oh!" Chat says, and his tail stands up straight. "Y-you—you think I'm cute?"

"I've kissed you twice," Luka reminds him. "And before you ask, no, Krampus traditions don't involve kissing."

Chat's cheeks are already flushed from the cold, but they turn bright red at Luka's words. Luka wonders if maybe he's been too forward. "What a pity," Chat says. "So, what _does _Krampus do?"

"Usually he whips naughty children with a birch branch," Luka says.

A sly smile overtakes Chat's face, and Luka immediately regrets his answer. "Got a branch?" Chat asks.

Luka clears his throat. "You're a superhero. I doubt Krampus is interested in you."

"The feeling's mutual," Chat says. "Tell me, what else does Krampus do?"

"Sometimes he throws children in a basket and carries them to hell," Luka says, cringing. He's pretty sure this isn't how flirting is supposed to work.

"If you swap _hell _for _your room, _I'm in."

Luka groans. "I keep walking into these jokes, don't I."

"You're making it pretty easy, yes," Chat says. His hand rests on Luka's shoulder, spreading heat through Luka's chilled skin. It occurs to Luka that he's probably not wearing enough layers—he'd only planned to be on the deck for a minute, so he hadn't worn more than a thin hoodie. "Sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you. I don't always think before I speak."

"Thinking doesn't seem to help me much," Luka says wryly. He fights the urge to move closer to the heat emanating off Chat's body. "Your hand is warm."

"And you look like you're freezing," Chat says. "Shouldn't you be wearing a coat?"

Luka shrugs. It's a clear December night, with no wind or snow, and he's too focused on Chat to notice the cold. "I don't mind."

"And I didn't come by to flirt, I swear," Chat adds. "I just wanted to wish you a Joyeux Noël. Or a happy fourth night of Hanukkah."

"You're not…" Luka hesitates, since he has a feeling he knows what the answer will be. "You're not celebrating at home?"

He's still not positive that Chat Noir and Adrien Agreste are the same person, but he's gathered that their home lives are similar enough. And if Chat's night is going anything like Adrien's—well, he's welcome to stay at the Liberty for as long as he likes.

Earlier that night, Luka, Marinette, and their friends had tried to visit the Agreste mansion to wish Adrien a Joyeux Noël. That attempt had ended like most attempts to see Adrien: with failure. And while Luka hates the idea of Adrien being locked up in his room by himself on Christmas, what else can he do? He'd sent him a text, and Adrien had responded, but it's not like Luka can break into the mansion to see him.

Even though it means that Chat's identity might be compromised, Luka secretly hopes that Chat is Adrien. Because that means Adrien was able to leave the house and spend Christmas with _someone, _if only for a few minutes.

"Right," Chat says quietly. "I…celebrated earlier, if you can call it that." Luka watches as Chat's entire body deflates, back hunched, his hand slipping from Luka's shoulder. "Last year was a lot better. My friends all came over to my house for a while, and—and that was fun. But this year, my father didn't let them come over." He snorts. "Probably because I didn't run away this time."

Ah. Yes. Luka vaguely recalls a story about Adrien sneaking out last Christmas and worrying his father, which somehow resulted in an akumatized Père Noël. Definitely not the strangest Christmas that Luka has witnessed—it's impossible, really, given the Couffaine family's antics—but it's certainly another piece of evidence to put in the Chat-is-Adrien column.

Part of Luka feels bad for speculating about Chat's identity. He knows that Ladybug and Chat Noir's safety depends on civilians not knowing who they are. Except, well…call Luka selfish, but he'd kind of like to know who he's been kissing.

"I'm sorry, Chat," Luka says. He tentatively reaches down and takes one of Chat's hands in his. "So it was just you and your father?"

Chat squeezes his hand lightly. "And a few other people. But it didn't last very long—he went back to his work after a few minutes of celebrating." His voice wavers a bit as he adds, "I ended up eating dinner alone."

"Oh, Chat." Luka steps forward and wraps his arms around Chat in a hug. Chat's body heat travels through his clothes, warming his frozen skin. "You should have come here sooner. We would have been happy to have you."

Chat returns the hug. "I—I didn't want to impose." He pulls away, a lopsided grin on his face. "And wouldn't it be kind of weird if a superhero came by to celebrate Christmas?"

Luka raises an eyebrow. "Not any weirder than our Krampus mannequin."

"I'm cuter than that," Chat mumbles.

"Yes, you are," Luka says. He absentmindedly brushes Chat's hair out of his face. "Do you want to come downstairs? We've mostly cleaned up, but we still have some dessert left over."

Chat presses his cheek to Luka's palm. "Hm. I do like dessert." He pulls away, forehead pinched with a frown. "Are there a lot of people down there?"

"Just maman," Luka says, "and she's passed out in her room. Juleka's over at Rose's."

"I…guess I could come downstairs for a few minutes," Chat says.

Luka wonders why there's a touch of hesitance in Chat's voice. Is he reluctant to be alone with Luka? Or is he still worried that he's unwelcome?

"You know, Chat," Luka says, leading him downstairs. As they move toward the room below, heat slowly seeps back into Luka's fingers and face. "I would have invited you over if I knew you didn't have plans. I enjoy your visits."

Silently, he worries that was too blunt. Or too formal. _I enjoy your visits. _That doesn't tell Chat how Luka really feels—or that Luka is kind of hoping he'll kiss him again.

"Oh," Chat says. Luka glances over his shoulder to find him rubbing his neck awkwardly. "I was kind of worried that these visits bother you, actually."

"Bother me?" Luka repeats, incredulous.

"I can be a little over-the-top."

"I don't mind," Luka says, smiling. "Like I said, I like having you here."

It's hard to tell in the darkness—the only source of light in the room is some Christmas lights strung along the walls—but it looks like Chat is blushing. "I…um, I like being here," Chat says. Clearing his throat, he claps his hands together. "So! I believe I was promised some dessert?"

"I'm beginning to think you have a sweet tooth." Luka closes the door behind them and climbs over a pile of empty boxes to reach the kitchen counter. "Also, I'm sorry for the mess. I was just starting to clean up when I went upstairs earlier."

Chat's eyes rake across the room, likely taking in the scattered scraps of wrapping paper, the opened presents, and the pile of scissors, tape, and ribbon by the couch. (The Couffaines tend to do their gift wrapping last-minute.) Then Chat frowns. "It looks like someone…fired a confetti cannon in here?"

Grimacing, Luka brushes a pile of confetti off the kitchen counter. "Yeah. Maman did."

Chat's mouth twitches. "I guess she really likes Christmas?"

"She really likes cannons," Luka corrects. "But most of them are illegal, so she makes do with the non-lethal ones."

At that, Chat bursts out laughing. He doubles over, cackling so hard that a tear slips from his eye. "I'm sorry. I'm just…this ship doesn't have cannons, does it?"

"No," Luka says flatly. "And that's only thanks to a very long conversation with Roger Raincomprix about public safety hazards." He sighs. "I promise, this houseboat is safe. Mostly."

Chat snorts. "It's nice and warm, at least." His eyes stray to one of the space heaters in the corner, and Luka can't help but wonder if Chat is heat-seeking like an actual cat. "I expected it to be a little colder, since it's a boat and all."

"Space heaters," Luka says. "And a stove. We just have to watch the carbon monoxide levels. Oh, and…" Luka hops over another pile and grabs a blanket off the couch. "We have blankets, too. You can have this one, if you want."

Chat chews on his lip. "You look like you need it more than I do."

Luka shrugs. "I just thought, cats tend to like warmth, right?"

"Oh, that's true," Chat says. He winks. "But occasionally something cold catches my eye."

Luka feels his cheeks heat. "Is that so?"

"Uh." Chat fiddles with his tail, eyes darting around the room. "You keep the blanket for now. I'll steal it from you later if I'm cold." He peers at Luka. "Or we can share."

"We have a few blankets," Luka says. "So I could get you your own, if you don't want to share."

Even as Luka says it, he hopes that Chat will say no. He and Chat had cuddled together once, back on Halloween, and Luka hasn't been able to forget the feel of Chat's head on his shoulder, the weight of his body curled up next to Luka's. Luka would much rather share a blanket and hold him close.

"We'll see," Chat says.

With a nod, Luka sets the blanket on the couch and makes his way back to the kitchen counter. Grabbing a knife, he uncovers the leftover Bûche de Noël made by the Dupain-Chengs. The half-log sits in a mess of crumbs and icing, sliced carelessly by Luka's family earlier, but it still tastes just as good.

"Ooh," Chat says. His body presses against Luka's side as he peers at the cake. "Did the Dupain-Chengs make that?"

"Yeah," Luka says, as he cuts a piece for Chat. "Marinette dropped it off earlier."

"That's nice," Chat murmurs, though there's something strange in his voice. "Did any of your other friends visit?"

_Oh. _Of course. Luka's talking to someone who just spent most of Christmas by himself.

"Usually we wouldn't have visitors," Luka says, "since everyone's spending the day with their families. But, well…" He sighs as he scoops Chat's piece of cake onto a paper plate. "We were trying to visit our friend earlier. Adrien Agreste. You might know him?" Luka glances sideways at Chat, gauging his reaction.

Chat's eyes are slightly wide, his lips parted in surprise. "Really?" he says. "You—you were?"

Luka smiles and nods. "We figured he might appreciate the company, since his father is always so busy. But Gabriel wouldn't let us in." He inhales deeply, trying to quell his irritation. Even as he exhales, though, his hand tightens in a fist around the knife he's holding. "I'm still angry about that. And—well, actually, Marinette and I considered climbing over the mansion wall anyway. But there was ice, and I was afraid Marinette would break her neck, and Marinette was afraid I would break my guitar, so we—"

"Wait," Chat says. His hand comes to rest on Luka's, and Luka realizes he's been sawing angrily at the log. "Why did you have your guitar?"

"Well, we were all _planning_ to sing some carols," Luka says. He sets the knife down. "That's the thing. We weren't even asking to be let inside. Just the front steps would have been fine. But apparently Christmas cheer is forbidden at the Agreste mansion."

"Sounds like it," Chat murmurs.

"Yeah, I…it's…" A growl escapes Luka's lips, and he presses a hand to his face. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't get so worked up. I just—I keep thinking about how Adrien must feel, alone in that mansion with a father who hates the holidays, or happiness, or something, and…and…"

"I'm sure he appreciates your concern." Chat's fingers stroke the back of Luka's trembling hand. "It seems like you've got a lot to say about the Agrestes."

"Because I'm angry," Luka mutters. "I just—I don't like how Adrien's father treats him." He risks a glance at Chat. "From what you've said, he sounds a lot like your father. And I hate that both of you are so…" He sighs. "It's a _holiday, _Chat. You shouldn't have to sneak out in a superhero suit just to spend it with someone."

"Can you…" Chat trails off, pressing his lips together. Then he tries again. "Would you mind playing some of those carols for me?"

"I'd love to," Luka says. He hands Chat the paper plate. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll go grab my guitar."

He's grateful for the chance to think about something else. Music will get his mind off his anger toward Gabriel Agreste—and off the fact that he still doesn't know if he's talking to Adrien right now.

On one hand, it's easy for Luka to say how he feels about Adrien's father when he's not sure if Chat is really Adrien. On the other hand, the ambiguity is frustrating. If this is Adrien, why doesn't he ever flirt with Luka without the mask? And if it's _not _Adrien, then why has this random blonde boy decided that he's interested in Luka?

It doesn't make any sense, and normally, that wouldn't bother Luka. Except, well—he's falling for Chat. That's become clear enough. If Luka just wanted to be friends with Chat, he wouldn't have wandered onto the deck earlier in the hopes that Chat would appear and kiss him again.

Although Luka's tried to control his emotions for these past several weeks, he can _feel_ the song inside his heart growing restless. It's faint, but it's the same will-they-won't-they tune that finally soured his feelings for Marinette. And he doesn't want that. His feelings for Chat are sweet and uncomplicated. He doesn't want questions or doubts to disrupt that.

At the end of the day, it shouldn't matter. Luka wants to be there for Chat regardless of who he is under the mask, and regardless of whether or not Chat is interested in starting a relationship. Deep down, though, Luka is afraid his heart will end up getting hurt.

A minute or two later, Luka reenters the living room carrying his classical guitar. Chat is sitting on the sofa, scarfing down his slice of cake, but he perks up and sets the plate down when he sees Luka.

"Is that a classical guitar?" Chat asks, wiping crumbs from his face.

Luka nods and sits down next to Chat. "I don't play it as often as my electric one."

"Right," Chat says. "I don't think I've ever seen you play classical before." He clears his throat. "Um, not that I've seen you play that often, but—sometimes you're sitting in that chair on the deck—oh, and sometimes I see your band practicing…"

Luka laughs. "Classical guitar isn't exactly Kitty Section's aesthetic, no."

He quickly adjusts the tuning pegs on the guitar, and then he begins plucking the tune of "Il est né, le divin Enfant." At first, he looks up from the strings and watches Chat—but Chat's gaze is too intense, and Luka finds himself looking down at the strings even though he doesn't have to.

Chat is silent as Luka makes his way through "Noël nouvelet," "Patapan," and "Un flambeau, Jeannette, Isabelle." After the fourth song, Luka glances up to find that Chat's head is tilted back, his eyes closed, a serene smile on his face.

Luka smiles to himself. He's tempted to set his guitar down and drape the blanket over Chat. He looks so sweet and peaceful like that.

When a few moments have passed without music, Chat cracks an eye open. "Do you have any more?"

Luka blinks, a blush heating his cheeks. He hopes Chat didn't catch him staring. "Of course."

He frowns, thinking for a second, and then plays the first five notes of a major scale. His fingers quickly remember the rest, moving through the intervals and chords of the lullaby. The notes ring sweet and pure in the air, and as Luka plays, he can't help but feel that there's something intimate about this concert for one. Playing carols next to someone, in a cozy room on Christmas—isn't that something lovers do?

Luka makes eye contact with Chat as he plucks the last chord of the song. He pulls his fingers away from the strings and lets the sound echo in the air between them.

Chat blinks. His eyes shine in the glow of the Christmas lights. "Your playing is beautiful, Luka." He quickly swipes a hand across his face. "I mean, I would have loved to hear everyone sing carols, but that was…" He shakes his head and stares at the fake fire flickering on one of the space heaters.

Luka smiles and strums a few chords, needing something to do with his hands. "Hm. I guess I should have tried to climb over the mansion wall, after all."

Chat hums in agreement. A moment of silence passes, and then he yelps. "I—I mean, yes, I'm sure Adrien would have appreciated your playing as much as I did. Or, uh, maybe even more. I don't know him that well, but I mean, assuming he has any taste at all…" He wrings his hands and stares at Luka with wide eyes. "I meant to ask, what was that last song? I didn't recognize it."

Since it's Christmas, Luka decides to be generous and ignore Chat's slip. "Tàladh Chrìosda," he says, playing the first few notes again. "It's a Scottish Gaelic carol. I don't know how often it gets sung in French."

Chat leans forward, his tail curling behind him as he does. "How does it go?"

"You mean the words?" Luka asks. He laughs helplessly. "I don't really know them. I just know the tune."

"Right," Chat says. "That makes sense."

"Did you want to hear me sing?" Luka teases.

"Uh. Maybe?"

"My guitar playing is better," Luka says, setting the guitar aside. "But maybe I'll sing for you another time."

Smiling, Chat moves closer, until his legs are pressed up against Luka's. "I'd like that." Hesitantly, he wraps his hand around Luka's wrist and presses Luka's palm to his cheek. "Hm. Seems like you're still a little cold. Maybe you need something to warm you up?"

"I guess I could make coffee or hot chocolate," Luka says. "Do you want any?"

Chat squints at him and slowly lets go of his hand. "Sure. That is…exactly what I meant."

"Did you have something else in mind?" Luka asks, raising his eyebrows. "We have tea, too."

"N-no," Chat says, shaking his head. He reclines on the couch, arms folded across his chest. "I could go for some hot chocolate."

It's not until Luka is standing over a pot at the stove that he realizes what Chat meant by _something to warm you up. _He groans. "I'm so sorry."

"What for?" Chat asks. He's fiddling with one of the space heaters now, clearly searching for a way to turn it on.

"You plug it in," Luka tells him. "There's an outlet behind the sofa." He gives the hot chocolate a gentle stir. "And…I just realized you weren't asking for hot chocolate."

Chat grunts, dangling over the back of the sofa as he tries to plug the heater in. Luka tries not to stare too much at his ass, but—well, Chat is wearing a skintight suit, and Luka is only human.

Finally, Chat sits back down on the sofa. "Well, it's true that I wasn't thinking of hot chocolate," he says, grabbing the blanket and wrapping it around himself. "But hot drinks are good, too."

Once the hot chocolate is done, Luka ladles it into two cups. "Do you want whipped cream?"

Chat raises an eyebrow. "What do you think?"

"I think," Luka says, retrieving the can of whipped cream from the cupboard, "that your dentist probably hates me for indulging your sweet tooth like this."

"Wrong!" Chat exclaims. "I'll have you know, I've never gotten a cavity in my life."

Luka stares at Chat in disbelief. "How is that possible?"

Chat grins. "I have good teeth."

Turning back to the hot chocolate, Luka sprays whipped cream on top of Chat's cup. "Oh. That must be why you have such a beautiful smile."

He glances up to find Chat stuttering and avoiding his eyes. "Th-that—oh—uh, thank you. You know, you…also…"

"I know my smile's not as nice," Luka says.

"Quoi!" Chat says. "What are you talking about?"

"Well," Luka says, as he carefully carries the two mugs over to the sofa. "I had an ex who told me that my smile was too wide, and that when I didn't show teeth, it was a little…reptilian."

"That's ridiculous," Chat says. "I love your smile. And your laugh. And, well. A lot of things." He smiles shyly. "You know, I can personally vouch for how nice your lips are."

Luka laughs as he sits down and hands Chat his hot chocolate. Rather than take a sip, though, Chat immediately sets the mug on a nearby box and tugs at the blanket, adjusting it so it's draped over both him and Luka. After some maneuvering, Chat ends up sitting curled against Luka's side, with his legs draped across Luka's lap and his face pressed to Luka's shoulder. The blanket wraps around the two of them, cocooning them in warmth.

"Oh," Luka says, as a purr rumbles in Chat's chest. He'd thought he imagined it on Halloween night, but there's no mistaking it—Chat definitely purrs. "This is comfortable."

Chat hums, taking a sip of hot chocolate. His hair tickles Luka's neck. "It is." His body shifts against Luka's with a sigh. "I wish I had this more often."

Luka doesn't respond right away. He wonders: what part of _this _does Chat wish for? The warmth and quiet? The company? Luka himself?

"What do you mean?" Luka murmurs. His free hand strokes Chat's hair, fingers brushing against his neck.

"I don't know," Chat says. "Just…this."

"Well," Luka says. "Unfortunately, Christmas only comes once a year. But I'm available for cuddling year-round."

Chat laughs. "That's good to hear."

They sit together in silence after that, sipping hot chocolate and enjoying each other's presence. Luka wishes he could just go ahead and kiss Chat—but that's not how they do things. Each kiss has to have a game, an excuse, and Luka doesn't want to scare Chat away by straying from that.

Eventually, Chat glances up at Luka, his green eyes sparkling. "So, you ruined my last attempt at being smooth. Mind if I try again?"

Luka struggles to maintain a straight face as his heart pounds, racing to the beat of _yes, yes, finally._ "Go ahead." He takes a sip of hot chocolate, and as the thick sweetness coats his tongue, he somehow knows that this is going to end with a kiss. It's the flavor of something sweet—somehow, that taste always leads to Chat's lips.

"You see," Chat says. He pauses to lick his lips. "The music and the hot chocolate—those are nice gifts."

Luka glances down at Chat. "I wouldn't call them gifts, exactly."

"And I feel bad," Chat continues, "because I didn't bring a Christmas present for you."

"I think your _présence _is enough, Chat."

"Even so…" Chat stops, eyes widening. "Wait, was that a pun?"

Luka feels his face flush. He's never been that good at wordplay, and he's always been reluctant to attempt a play on words around Paris's pun master. "It was an attempt?"

"That was a pun," Chat says, grinning. "You know, I was going to offer you a kiss as my Christmas gift—"

"I'd still like that," Luka says.

"—but now I'm pretty sure I'm obligated to kiss you."

"Oh?" Luka says. As he takes in the dot of whipped cream on Chat's nose and the chocolate outlining his lips, he can tell that this kiss is going to be another sweet one. "Well, I wouldn't object to a last-minute Christmas present."

"Last-minute?" Chat says, raising an eyebrow. He leans closer, until his lips are just centimeters from Luka's. "Luka, I've been thinking about this all month."

And then their lips are pressed together—and of course Chat tastes like chocolate and sugar, his lips sweet and warm against Luka's. The kiss makes warmth bloom in Luka's chest, as if a tiny fire is glowing in his heart.

Their mugs clink against each other, and it occurs to Luka that they should probably set them down, except he doesn't want to end the kiss sooner than he has to. So Luka does his best to hold the mug steady, even as Chat kisses him more insistently, making his thoughts fuzzy and light.

Luka loses track of how many kisses there are, exactly; all he knows is that Chat's Christmas gift is definitely better than hot chocolate.

At some point, Chat haphazardly wraps his arm around Luka's neck and tugs him closer. Luka surges forward, seeking yet another kiss—and that's when Chat's elbow hits his arm, knocking Luka's hot chocolate all over the blanket.

Chat jerks away, his ears flat. "Merde!" he hisses, staring at the chocolate covering the blanket. "I—I'm so sorry." He jumps to his feet, and hot chocolate sloshes out of his cup, dripping onto Luka and the blanket. "Oh, mon dieu. I—I'll go get towels." Cursing quietly, he sets his mug down and scrambles toward the kitchen.

Luka sets his mug down as well, carefully extricating himself from the stained blanket. "It's fine, Chat," Luka says. He stands and joins Chat at the kitchen counter. "I don't mind."

Chat groans and blots a paper towel against Luka's hand, wiping away the hot chocolate on his skin. "I'm so stupid. _Joyeux Noël, Luka! I ruined your blanket and spilled hot chocolate on you!"_

"Don't worry, Chat," Luka says, grabbing his shoulder. "We can wash it."

With a sigh, Chat tosses a wad of paper towels onto the counter. "I'm so embarrassed."

"Don't be." Luka's hand slips down Chat's arm, fingers lightly brushing his wrist. "So…do you have any more presents for me?"

Chat laughs. "You still want another kiss, after that?" He shakes his head. "I'll probably set your houseboat on fire or something."

"It wouldn't be the first time that's happened."

"Of course not," Chat mutters, shaking his head. "Isn't there anything else you want instead?"

"Well," Luka says, taking Chat's hand. "You could take Krampus off our hands. I'm tired of being scared shitless every time I go upstairs."

"Are you suggesting I try to destroy your Krampus statue?" Chat says. "Absolutely not. That thing's cursed. I'm not risking it."

"In that case," Luka says, "I think I'd like another kiss."

"Right. Um, sure." Taking a deep breath, Chat leans forward and presses his lips to Luka's, quick and chaste. "Joyeux Noël, Luka."

Luka blushes. "Joyeux Noël, Chat."

He's already memorizing the taste of this particular holiday kiss. That's three now: peppermint, pumpkin, and chocolate. Chat's lips really do taste sweet every time.

"Oh," Chat says. "Apologies. I think I got some whipped cream…" He points at Luka's face. "I'll just—uh…" He swipes a gloved finger across Luka's nose and pulls it away with a bit of whipped cream on it. "Sorry." Smiling sheepishly, he licks the cream off his finger.

Luka squeezes his eyes shut, sure that his face is as red as Père Noël's suit. Then he opens them and sees that there's still some whipped cream on Chat's nose, too. "You've still got some on yours," Luka says. He mimics Chat's motion, wiping the whipped cream off with his finger and licking it off.

He's not really a fan of whipped cream, but apparently Luka Couffaine will do many things for the sake of flirting with Chat Noir.

Chat buries his face in his hands. "You—um, I—I should probably get going before someone at home notices I'm gone." He lowers his hands from his eyes, just enough to peer at Luka. "Thank you for the hot chocolate, Luka. A-and…everything else."

Feeling emboldened, Luka leans forward and kisses Chat's forehead. "Have a good night, Chat. I'll see you around?"

A squeak slips out of Chat's mouth. "Certainly! Soon. I'll…uh, I'll be back soon." He takes a quick sip from his mostly-empty mug of hot chocolate and hastily trips toward the door. "Bonne nuit, Luka."

Luka watches him from the counter. "Do you want me to walk you out?"

"No, I'll be fine." Chat gives a tiny bow, his tail lashing behind his back. "Off I go!"

He wrenches the door open and scrambles away, much like he did Halloween night, when he first kissed Luka. Luka smiles and takes a sip from the dregs of his mug, pretending it's Chat's lips he's tasting instead.

A few seconds later, Luka hears a yell from up above.

"Chat?" he tentatively calls.

"I changed my mind!" Chat yells. "I'm throwing Krampus overboard!"

And so, Chat's Christmas visit ends not with a kiss, but with the sound of Krampus plummeting into the cold, dark Seine outside.

Luka does not look forward to explaining that to his mother when she wakes up.

* * *

**Translations:  
**Père Noël – Santa Claus  
Joyeux Noël – Merry Christmas  
Bûche de Noël – Christmas yule log cake (a traditional chocolate dessert)  
Il est né, le divin Enfant – He is Born, the Divine Christ Child  
Noël nouvelet – Sing We Now of Christmas  
Un flambeau, Jeannette, Isabelle – Bring a Torch, Jeanette, Isabella  
présence – presence


	4. New Tradition

**A/N: **The next part will be posted February 14! Then there will be two or three more after that.

* * *

**New Tradition  
(New Year's Eve)**

On New Year's Eve, with thirty minutes until midnight, Luka stands on the deck of the Liberty and scans the sky for Chat Noir.

He doesn't know for a fact that Chat is going to show up. In fact, Luka knows he's taking a risk by staying home on the off chance that the superhero will visit. For all he knows, he could end up spending the night by himself.

A freezing wind sweeps across the deck of the houseboat, and Luka adjusts his clothes, tugging his hat over his ears and pulling his scarf up over his mouth. At least he's dressed for the weather for once.

On both sides of the Seine, crowds have gathered to wait for midnight and watch the fireworks together. Luka knows that there are similar groups scattered across Paris—and that somewhere, Juleka and his mother are gathered with friends as they count down to the new year. He'd been invited to go with them, of course, but he'd declined.

Luka was a little concerned by the knowing looks his mother and sister gave him as they left, though. He really hopes that they don't know about his visits from Chat Noir.

He glances at the empty sky again, and then he retrieves his phone from his coat pocket and pulls up his last conversation with Adrien. It's a long shot, but he still thinks that Adrien and Chat might be the same person. Maybe if he texts Adrien a hint…

Luka sighs, repocketing his phone. He's being stupid. Even if he's right about Adrien being Chat, Luka doesn't know how to be subtle. His text would probably end up going something like, _Bonne année! So, you're Chat Noir, right? _

A few more minutes pass, and Luka spends them brooding over his relationship with Chat. He wishes that Chat would have just approached him as a civilian, because falling for a superhero has made Luka's life far messier than it has to be.

Luka is horrible at romance—he's too awkward, too blunt—and thanks to this arrangement, he can't exactly ask his family or friends for help with wooing Chat. And of course, standard relationship advice doesn't help when Luka is dealing with an enigmatic cat superhero. He can't talk to Chat's friends to figure out how Chat feels about him, or invite Chat to hang out with Kitty Section so that Luka's bandmates can tell him if Chat seems to like him.

His only clues are mixed signals, and the fact that Chat keeps kissing him. While that second part _should _tell Luka where Chat stands, he can't help but worry that Chat is just being flirtatious. After all, isn't he supposed to have a thing for Ladybug? Maybe he's not serious about Luka after all. Maybe he's up on a rooftop somewhere spending New Year's Eve with Ladybug.

Despite the layers he's wearing, Luka feels a chill creep across his skin. It seems as if this is a cycle that Luka's doomed to repeat: meet someone, fall for them, feel a connection…and then watch as that person pines after someone else, pulling farther and farther away from Luka until they slip through his fingers completely.

It had happened with Marinette, of course, though she hadn't been the first. Although she'd sometimes accepted Luka's advances, she was always quietly pining for Adrien. And that's not her _fault_, of course—Luka doesn't blame her for who she loves, or for her great taste in guys—but it still made him feel like he'd done something wrong.

Luka's mother has always told him that love is like a song: different for every person, and always from the heart. And for a while, Luka's inner romantic had thought that his mother's simile, as simple as it was, made sense.

Sometimes love is slow, creeping up on a person over time; and sometimes it's fast, sudden, a coup de foudre that hits two people out of the blue. It might be loud and passionate, or it might be soft and simple, or it might even switch between the two. The song could repeat itself at times, with a comfortably familiar refrain—or it might be ever-changing, with each verse sounding like an entirely new song. And while some loves grow stronger with time, a steady crescendo, others fade out, growing quieter until the song can't be heard anymore.

Now, Luka's pretty sure that's wrong. If love was a song, he would _understand _it. And it's never been that easy. No, love is some sort of game—and Luka plays music, not games. That's the only explanation for why he's so bad at this.

Before Luka can torture himself with more thoughts about his failed love life, his phone buzzes in his pocket.

He smiles when he sees that it's a text from Adrien. _Hey, Luka! Twenty minutes until 2020. Hope you're ready to ring in the new year!_

_I guess I am, _Luka responds. _Are you stuck at home, or did your father let you out?_

_I'm at home, _Adrien texts, apparently deciding to ignore Luka's comment about his father. _What about you?_

Luka squints at his phone screen, bright against the shadows of the deck. If Adrien is Chat—and he almost has to be, really—is this his way of asking Luka if he can come over?

"Say what you mean," Luka mutters, as he types his response. _Maman and Juleka went out. I'm home by myself right now. If I'm lucky, maybe someone will show up to kiss me at midnight, but I'm not counting on it. _

As he hits send, he knows that his reply is too bitter. For one thing, he doesn't actually know that Adrien is Chat, so Adrien probably doesn't deserve Luka's irritation. And for another, it's not like it's Chat's _duty _to show up and kiss Luka. For all Luka knows, he's patrolling with Ladybug right now to keep the city safe on New Year's Eve.

But, well…Luka has expectations_. _Chat has kissed him for the past three holidays, one of which France doesn't even celebrate. The least he could do is kiss Luka on the one holiday where there's _actually _a kissing tradition.

A few minutes pass, and Adrien doesn't respond. Luka considers sending a follow-up text to apologize for being so negative, but he doesn't want to make things worse. Instead, he just slips his phone back into his pocket and stares out at the water, wondering if maybe he should go join his family after all.

He won't be upset if Chat doesn't visit. Sure, he'll be a little disappointed—but he won't let it ruin his holiday. It's not the end of the world if Chat doesn't kiss him a fourth time.

Someone clears their throat behind him. "Salut, Luka."

Luka whirls around. "Cha—Chat Noir?"

He says it as a question, because he's not actually sure. The boy in front of him certainly resembles Chat: he has pale hair—probably blonde, though it's hard to tell in the dim light—and he's the same height as Chat, the same build. His voice is just as smooth and lilting, like a song without a tune, and his eyes sparkle the same as he stares at Luka.

But he's also more fidgety than Chat. His movements are smaller, not as bold, as if he's not sure he should be at the houseboat. And most importantly of all, his outfit is different. He's still wearing a mask, but it's a decorative masquerade mask with glitter and an elaborate border. Instead of cat ears, he's wearing a beanie on his head, and instead of a leather suit, he's wearing a black coat and scarf.

The boy wrings his hands together. Luka notices that he's wearing mittens. "Uh—I mean—that—is that who you want?"

Luka folds his arms and regards the boy. "Am I supposed to guess your identity?" he asks. He'd always assumed that if he did figure out Chat's identity, Chat wouldn't want Luka to say anything.

The boy drags a mitten-clad hand down his face. "I'm Chat Noir," he says. "You—you probably shouldn't guess my identity. Ladybug's already going to kill me for visiting a civilian so often. I don't want to make it worse."

"You're not transformed," Luka observes.

Chat rubs the back of his neck. "Right. I figured that since there are so many people near the Liberty right now, I should probably try to blend in." He shrugs. "There are enough New Year's Eve masquerade parties that no one questioned the mask. They probably just thought I was on my way to a party."

"Are you?" Luka asks, even though he's almost certain the answer is no.

Chat shakes his head and finally takes a few steps closer. "No. I came to see you." He bites on his lip. "Unless—uh, unless you're going to a party? Because I don't want to keep you from, you know, your friends or…"

"I'm not going anywhere," Luka says. "I'm glad you're here."

Chat takes another few steps toward Luka, until he's close enough that Luka could take his hand if he tried. "You seem a little…upset?"

"I was worried you wouldn't come," Luka admits. "You didn't have to, of course. It was a stupid reason to be upset."

"I'm sorry!" Chat says. He reaches down and grabs Luka's hands. "I assumed you'd be out celebrating. It didn't occur to me until a few minutes ago that you might be here."

_When I texted you? _Luka wants to ask. But he knows he can't ask Chat about his identity so directly.

"You don't need to apologize," Luka says, squeezing Chat's hands. They can't intertwine their fingers since he's wearing mittens—and oh, he's adorable in those mittens—but the weight of Chat's palms against Luka's is comforting. "I didn't interrupt _your _plans, did I?"

Chat smiles ruefully and shakes his head. "I was home alone. I would have visited sooner if I'd known you were here."

Not for the first time, Luka is frustrated by their arrangement. Thanks to Chat being a superhero with a secret identity, Luka has no way of inviting him over or visiting him when he's lonely. And there's a churning in his gut, an urge to demand _how long are we going to keep this up?_—except he doesn't want to ruin the night. It's New Year's Eve, and Luka doesn't want to start the new year on a bad note.

Luka leans forward with a smile. "Hoping to celebrate some New Year's traditions?"

Chat stares at Luka with wide eyes. Then he ducks his head, hiding his mouth behind his scarf. "M-maybe?"

"Well," Luka says, "I have bad news. Maman is firmly against holiday traditions, so we've got a strict no-mistletoe policy here."

Chat's nose wrinkles. "That's a lie," he says. "She had Krampus. Krampus is a holiday tradition."

"Krampus is no longer with us," Luka points out, "since you dumped him in the Seine last week."

Eyes squeezed shut, Chat buries his face against Luka's chest. "I'm _sorry," _he whines. "I wasn't thinking. And Krampus was terrifying."

Luka laughs and wraps his arms around Chat. "I'm not mad," he says. "Maman was furious, but she thinks it was the work of vandals."

"Now I can never meet your mother," Chat mumbles against Luka's coat. "I bet she can smell fear. She'll know it was me."

"Is there a reason I'd be formally introducing you to my mother?" Luka asks, hope unfurling in his chest. _Please say there is. Say we have something. _

"Not unless you're planning to turn me in." Chat glances up with big, pleading eyes. In that moment, Luka realizes that he would do many, _many _things for those eyes. "You wouldn't do that, would you?"

Luka laughs, even as disappointment needles his heart. "No. I won't tell her." His fingers brush against Chat's masquerade mask. "I'm good at keeping secrets, you know."

Chat inhales and opens his mouth, as if he wants to say something. He stares at Luka for a long moment, some mix of emotions warring in his eyes—and then he sighs and shakes his head. "I know," he says quietly. Then he clears his throat. "So, Anarka Couffaine doesn't allow a _single _holiday tradition on this boat? Not even one?"

Luka pokes Chat's cheek. "Nope," he says. "Although…" He leans down, closer to Chat, until their lips are almost touching. "There is _one _tradition she might make an exception for."

Chat tilts his head back. "Oh? And what's that?"

"Fireball swinging."

Chat squints at Luka. Luka can practically hear the record scratch playing in his mind. "What."

"It's a Stonehaven Hogmanay tradition."

Luka watches as Chat tries to process his words. He tries not to laugh, but the confusion on Chat's face is endearing.

And maybe Luka shouldn't tease, except he kind of wants Chat to work for this kiss. Luka's doubts from earlier still haven't disappeared completely, and he wants to see if Chat is really interested in him or not.

"Hogmanay?" Chat echoes.

"Scottish New Year's, basically," Luka says. "We have relatives near Stonehaven, so we've visited once or twice to celebrate."

With a frown, Chat loops his arms around Luka's neck, preparing for a kiss that he's not getting anytime soon. "So what is fireball swinging?"

"It's…people swing fireballs?" Luka says, laughing. "They process down the street, and at the end of the ceremony, they throw the fireballs into the harbor."

"That sounds kind of pretty," Chat says.

"It is," Luka agrees. He stares out at the sidewalk, imagining fiery rings lighting up the streets. Right now, the only light is from the dim stars and street lights overhead. "That said," he adds, glancing at Chat, "I'm not sure I'd trust you to swing a giant ball of fire around here."

"Quoi!" Chat says. "But I wield the Miraculous of Destruction!"

Luka laughs. "That's exactly what I'm worried about."

"I'd be careful," Chat grumbles.

"Sure," Luka says. His hands find their way to Chat's waist, and it occurs to him that they're basically in a kissing position. "You know midnight's not for another few minutes, right?"

Chat smirks, though there's something vulnerable in his eyes that softens his expression. Luka wonders if maybe it's the fact that he has human eyes instead of cat sclerae. "I wanted to get here early," he says. "In your arms, I mean. Just in case someone else tried to beat me to it."

"Oh?" Luka says. "Is someone else competing for my affection?"

Silently, he asks an even simpler question: is _Chat _competing for Luka's affection? Or is he still pursuing Ladybug?

"I—I don't know," Chat says. The smirk slips off his face. "I thought maybe Marinette was…well…"

"Visiting the houseboat every holiday to kiss me?" Luka says, raising an eyebrow. "No, I think that's just you."

"But don't you like each other?"

That's a question Luka has asked himself several times over the past several weeks, and with each one of Chat's visits, the answer has become increasingly clear. It's been weeks since Luka wrote a song about Marinette, weeks since he dreamed about kissing her, weeks since her gaze made his palms sweaty. Luka still cares about her, of course—but their song has changed entirely, and the affection he has for her is almost completely platonic now.

Almost. Because occasionally, there's still a sliver of his brain that wonders _what if. _What if Marinette asked him out tomorrow? What if she took his hand, or cupped his cheek and kissed him? Luka can't entirely forget that he used to want her like that, and sometimes, the thought of having her love still makes his heart skip a beat.

But he knows that's not really what he wants anymore. The person he wants is right in front of him, cradled in his arms right now—and yet, somehow, Chat seems even more unobtainable than the girl who's turned Luka down several times.

"I have no idea how Marinette feels about me," Luka finally says. "But I'm not really interested in her that way anymore."

"Oh," Chat says. He blinks several times. "Uh, good. So I don't have to fight anyone for that midnight kiss?"

"What midnight kiss?" Luka says, struggling to keep a straight face. "I told you, there's no mistletoe on this boat. Maman doesn't approve of traditions like kissing under le gui."

"Not a problem," Chat says, his voice sing-song. "I came prepared."

Luka frowns. "You brought mistletoe with you?"

Of course he did. Did Luka really expect Chat to take chances with these holiday kisses?

Chat laughs. "Technically, _I _didn't bring it," he says. "Look up."

Slowly, Luka tilts his head back to gaze above them. Some sort of tiny figure is floating between him and Chat in the darkness, dangling a sprig of mistletoe overhead.

"Honestly," the floating blob says, "I can't believe you roped me into your ridiculous holiday ritual. No amount of cheese is worth this."

Realization dawns on Luka. He gazes down at Chat in disbelief, a smile tugging at his lips. "You're using your kwami to hold mistletoe?"

Chat nods. "I'm very committed."

"And _I'm_ very exasperated," Chat's kwami says. "If you want to kiss guitar boy so badly—"

"Plagg!" Chat says.

Luka laughs. "I'll admit, I didn't expect that," he says. "You got me."

Grinning, Chat asks, "So, do I get my kiss?"

"Say yes, s'il vous plaît," Plagg says. "He'll complain all night if you don't do that bizarre thing with your mouths."

_"Plagg," _Chat whines.

"I don't know," Luka says. "I'm impressed, but we don't really honor tradition around here. I'm not sure if I should make an exception."

"Luka," Chat says, pouting. His hat starts to slip off his hair, and Luka reaches up to tug it back down. "You know how the tradition works. Are you really going to condemn me to a year of loneliness?"

"You know," Luka says, "that's a good point. That would be pretty cruel of me."

"Exactly." Chat presses closer, until there's barely any space between his and Luka's bodies. "And you're too kind for that, Luka."

Plagg groans. "Disgusting. I wish I was in my ring right now. Or at home eating cheese. What kind of torture is this?"

Sighing, Chat reaches up and tries to snatch the mistletoe from Plagg's paws—but Plagg floats just out of reach, narrowly avoiding his hand.

"Plagg," Chat says, "if you're going to have such an attitude_, _just give me the mistletoe."

"Absolutely not," Plagg says. "You promised me copious amounts of cheese for this. I'm holding up my end of the deal."

"You bribed your kwami?" Luka says.

Chat rolls his eyes. "He never helps unless he's getting something in return." He glares up at Plagg. "Can you just be quiet for a few minutes?"

"Hm," Plagg says. "Maybe. It depends on whether or not you're willing to sweeten the deal."

Chat groans, and Luka can't help but laugh. There's something bizarrely entertaining (and sweet) about watching Chat barter with his kwami to secure some mistletoe.

"What do you want?" Chat asks.

"A dozen extra wheels of cheese," Plagg says. "Imported."

"Père is going to think I'm insane," Chat says. "Did you know Na—his assistant tried to stage an intervention about my consumption of camembert? You're ruining my life."

"That's not my problem," Plagg says. "Do we have a deal, or not?"

Chat glances between Luka and Plagg a few times, then lets out a frustrated sigh. "Eight wheels," he says.

"Ten."

"Fine!" Chat snaps. "Now be quiet until this is done."

Luka tugs lightly at Chat's scarf, pulling it down below his chin so that his lips are completely uncovered. "You know, I'm glad you got that sorted out," Luka says, "but I still haven't decided if your tradition should be allowed on the Liberty."

"You know what I think?" Chat says. His eyes glint with determination, and maybe that reaction is a little over-the-top, but Luka kind of appreciates Chat's dedication to making out with him. "I think your ban on traditions has become a tradition. And if you're _really _anti-tradition, you'll lift the traditional ban on traditions."

Luka closes his eyes, trying to make sense of Chat's winding logic. "Chat," he says. "Please don't make me start the new year with a headache."

"Well, then, don't think about it too much," Chat says. "Just agree that I'm right."

"You're pretty stubborn," Luka notes.

"So am I getting a kiss?" Chat asks with a toothy smile.

Luka laughs. "I guess I could give you one," he says. "But you'll have to wait another minute or two."

Soon, the crowds along the river begin to yell out numbers. Luka struggles to understand them at first, but somewhere around thirty, he realizes what they're saying.

A few moments later, Chat whispers, "Twenty seconds."

"Twenty seconds until 2020?" Luka says.

If Chat notices that Luka's echoed Adrien's text from earlier, he doesn't say anything. Instead, he wraps his arms more tightly around Luka's neck and tugs him closer. Luka lifts a hand to cup one of Chat's cheeks, which makes Chat laugh for some reason.

He taps the back of Luka's neck. "I can't do much with mittens. No fingers—it's like having paws."

"Oh," Luka says. "Well, they look cute, at least."

Chat ducks his head, and around them, the last countdown begins.

_Ten, nine, eight, seven, six…_

Luka takes a deep breath and tilts his head to the side, lining their lips up. "Three," he murmurs.

"Two," Chat says.

And then the streets and sidewalks around them erupt in whoops and cheers, signaling midnight. Luka doesn't waste a second, pulling Chat's lips against his while his other arm holds Chat's waist as tightly as possible.

Chat's hands paw at Luka's hair, knocking Luka's hat sideways. Luka responds in kind, yanking Chat's hat off and running gloved fingers through his hair. Before he can get much farther than that, though, the fireworks start with a loud _BOOM _overhead.

Chat jumps, his lips breaking away from Luka's. "S-sorry," he says, eyes wide. "I'm not a big fan of fireworks. They're too—"

He yelps as a round of fireworks cracks and booms overhead, then buries his face against Luka's chest. Luka kisses his forehead—now bare without the hat Luka tossed—and strokes Chat's hair to soothe him.

"Too loud," Chat mumbles, nuzzling Luka's torso. "Usually I'm inside, so fireworks don't bother me as much, but…"

He flinches as a particularly loud blast goes off, and Luka pats Chat's back. "How about we go downstairs?" he says. "It should be quieter down there."

Chat nods. Luka bends over to retrieve his hat, then grabs his hand and leads him below deck. Once they're downstairs, the thundering of the fireworks is muted, though still audible.

In the light of the kitchen, Luka can suddenly see the features that were muted by the monochrome evening light outside. Chat's hair is just as blond when he's not transformed, and his eyes are the same sparkling green, just without the cat shape. They're earnest, and soft, and bright, and—well, Luka's pretty sure he's already fallen for Chat, but if he hadn't, Chat's eyes would have done the trick.

Chat tilts his head to the side. "What is it?"

"You're pretty," Luka says. He tugs Chat's hat back onto his head, flattening his messy curls.

"So are you," Chat says.

Luka raises an eyebrow. "Are you trying to get another kiss?"

"No," Chat says. "I just wasn't sure if you knew how pretty you are." He reaches down and plucks off one of his mittens, then reaches up to cradle Luka's cheek. "That said, our kiss _did _get interrupted, so…"

After a quick glance upward to confirm, Luka says, "Your mistletoe's gone, you know."

Chat sighs. "It's _somewhere _on this boat. Isn't that good enough?"

Luka wraps his arms around Chat's waist once again. "I guess I can make an exception. But, you know, I've been wondering…" His nose brushes against Chat's. "Are your holiday kisses going to be a tradition, too?"

"They could be," Chat says. "If you want me to come back."

"There are still a few holidays you haven't done yet."

"I'll take that as a yes." Chat smiles up at Luka, his cheeks pink with a blush. "Bonne année, Luka."

"Bonne année, Chat," Luka says.

Then he kisses Chat again, with added enthusiasm to make up for the fireworks that interrupted them earlier. And as their lips meet and their hands hold each other close, Luka decides that if he can just spend this coming year with Chat, that might be enough.

And maybe Luka has a chance with him. He just needs a few more holidays, a few more kisses, and maybe he can convince Chat to stop running away.

After about a minute of kissing, Luka leans back and says, "You're coming back for Valentine's Day, right?"

Chat's only answer to that is to capture Luka's lips in another kiss.

* * *

**Translations:  
**Salut – Hi  
Quoi! – What!  
le gui – mistletoe  
Bonne année – Happy New Year


	5. No Excuse

**A/N: **Hey all! Here's some more Lukadrien for Valentine's Day. In case anyone's wondering, I think this series is going to have three more parts, which means it should be done sometime around May. The next chapter will be posted on March 17!

* * *

**No Excuse  
(Valentine's Day)**

Luka growls as his fingers fumble with the strings of his guitar. It's eight in the evening on Valentine's Day, and he's been practicing his song for Chat so much that he's pretty sure his callouses now have callouses.

A few hours ago, his sister had quietly suggested that he should take a break. But Luka couldn't do that—after all, the boy he liked could arrive any minute, and he still hadn't decided if the suspended E-flat chord in the fourth section of the song should resolve to E-flat major or C minor. And he calls himself a musician? He should have had that figured out weeks ago.

Finally, Luka sets his guitar on the bed and flexes his fingers. He knows he's being stupid. His emotions are getting away from him—and worse, because his music is the source of his stress for once, he doesn't have anywhere for his messy feelings to _go. _They're banging around his skull like a cymbal crash that won't stop echoing, making his head hurt and his skin crawl.

He should have realized that his innocent feelings for Chat would get painful eventually. It kind of feels like Luka's affection has grown claws, and now it's pricking him, needling him, telling him that the real pain is yet to come.

All day, he's been surrounded by stinging reminders of how romantic today is supposed to be. Earlier this evening, Juleka and Rose had gone to dinner together, and after exchanging gifts, they'd gone back to Rose's place to spend the rest of the night with each other. Luka assumes that Juleka will stay overnight on the Lavillant futon that's reserved for nights when she stays too late to walk home.

And although Luka doesn't usually check social media, he's made a habit of it ever since Adrien Agreste got an Instagram. Checking today, however, had been a mistake. As Luka lurked on his friends' accounts, he was bombarded by pictures of couples: Alya and Nino sharing an ice cream from André, Ivan and Mylène snuggled on a quiet bench by the Seine, classmates and acquaintances all coupled and happy and in love.

It's unlike Luka to be jealous or bitter. But he's hinged his romantic hopes on a superhero who comes and goes, whose real name Luka doesn't even know, whose real face Luka has never seen—and who might not even visit tonight, if the minutes ticking by are any indication. And it's occurring to Luka that he's been foolish.

Is there really any question that Ladybug and Chat Noir are made for each other? Luka doesn't think that Chat has been toying with him, but at the same time, he's not sure that Chat understands his own feelings all that well. He's the sort of person to jump into a romance without bothering to see where it's going, and Luka worries that Chat might be dragging him into a duet that he'll leave halfway through.

That said, Luka wouldn't be angry if Chat ended up with Ladybug, or anyone else for that matter. He's a sweet guy, and he deserves to be happy. Luka won't be upset about Chat finding happiness.

But as eight o'clock turns to nine, and nine to ten, all of Luka's insecurities—usually so quiet—gradually drift to the surface.

He's tried to be bold before. He's put his heart on the line, confessed his love, and he's been turned down. And it's stupid, but Luka's afraid that maybe he's a bit too…boring.

It's not necessarily low self-esteem. Luka has never been bothered by what he is, what he's not, by what other people think of him or what they say. But with someone as magnetic as Chat, who's a whirlwind personified—how could Luka possibly attract someone like _him? _Luka's just not that exciting.

That never bothered him, until he started worrying about winning Chat's affections.

Sighing, Luka pulls up Adrien's Instagram on his phone. Adrien hasn't posted anything about where he is or what he's doing, and he'd never replied to Luka's message from earlier that day asking what he thought about E-flat major versus C-minor. Luka had thought he was clever, asking Chat for advice about a song that's for him…but what if Luka's miscalculated? What if Adrien's not Chat after all, and Luka has stupidly conflated two blonde boys with green eyes?

Sprawled on the living room couch with his guitar on the floor, Luka rolls onto his back and dangles an arm over his eyes. He's a simple person. He doesn't like puzzles or complicated games. It's not that he can't solve them—after all, he wouldn't make a very good Snake holder if he couldn't problem-solve—but he prefers to avoid the stress when he can.

Unfortunately for Luka, falling for Chat Noir (who might or might not be Adrien Agreste) is extremely stressful.

Although he can't call up Ladybug and ask her where Chat is, Luka's considered texting Marinette to ask if she knows what Adrien is up to. She tends to keep track of most of her friends' activities, and if anyone could tell Luka why Adrien's not responding to his text, it's Marinette. But Luka has a feeling that asking Marinette about her former—current?—crush on Valentine's Day is a bad idea for many reasons, chiefly that she might suspect that Luka has feelings for him.

At some point, Luka drifts off to sleep, and he wakes up some time later to Anarka patting his head. She's dressed for bed, wearing an oversized t-shirt and threadbare plaid pants. "Your bed's more comfortable, if you're going to sleep," she says. "Or are you off to woo some pretty lads and lasses?"

Luka squints up at her through the strands of hair hanging in his face. "At…" He pulls out his phone and glances at the time. His heart sinks when he realizes how late it is. "At eleven-thirty? No, maman. I'm heading to bed soon."

Anarka ruffles his hair. "It's a good song you've been working on. Your sweetheart is stupid if they don't come by to hear it."

Luka grunts noncommittally. Although his family has been shooting him knowing looks for the past several weeks, he refuses to admit that he has a love interest.

Anarka pads off to her bedroom, and Luka lets his eyes flutter shut. Sleep tugs at his brain, but not hard enough to pull him under; there are too many thoughts swirling around his head for that. He tries to cling to the positive ones, when they appear. Maybe Chat got held up. Maybe he'll come by tomorrow, or the next day. After all, Valentine's Day is just an arbitrary date. Luka can play him the song anytime.

Or he can just turn it into a song about heartbreak. His family is big on _reduce, reuse, recycle. _

Something thumps loudly on the deck above. Luka sits up and gropes around for his phone, which is wedged between the couch cushions. When he finally retrieves it, the screen reads 23:52.

Surely that's not Juleka. She's not that loud, and she'd texted earlier to say that she was staying over at Rose's. So who—

The door swings open, and Chat Noir charges into the room. He's panting, face red, and clutched in both his hands is a vase with some sort of bouquet in it.

Luka jumps to his feet. "Chat—"

"I'm so—so sorry," Chat says, gasping for breath. "I…I didn't get a chance to text you, and I—uh—I just got back to Paris."

"Back to…Paris?" Luka repeats, his mind slow. He'd resigned himself to Chat not appearing, and now his brain's not sure what to do with the boy standing in front of him. "You left the city?"

Luka hadn't been aware that Ladybug or Chat Noir could do that. He kind of assumed that they were stuck in Paris in the event of an akuma attack—but then, that's really no way to live, is it? Luka can't imagine being tied down like that. He's relieved that Chat has that tiny bit of freedom.

Coughing, Chat nods. "I had to," he wheezes. "My father forced me to go on his business trip, and I _asked _him to let me stay home, but he said no, and…" He pauses, and Luka takes a tentative step forward, worried that Chat is going to pass out from lack of air. "I couldn't tell him I'm Chat Noir, and I couldn't tell him about you, and—and…"

"Chat," Luka says. "It's fine. Take your time."

Shaking his head, Chat doubles over. His breaths are a bit deeper now, but they're still far too quick. "I can't," he says. "I have to get back before they realize I left the airport. The plane just landed a few minutes ago. I didn't even stop to grab my suitcase. Père will be mad, but I…" He stands up straight, green eyes fixed on Luka. "I wasn't about to miss this holiday."

Luka stands still, rooted to the spot. It occurs to him that when he told himself he didn't care if Chat ended up with Ladybug, he was lying.

He does care. A lot.

"Chat," Luka says. "I'm touched. You didn't have to go out of your way like that."

"I did!" Chat insists. "This was important, Luka. And if it gets me grounded, so be it."

Although he's trying to keep his composure, Luka can feel his face heating in a blush. These last two visits, there's been something different about Chat's demeanor—it's more stripped-down, somehow. His flirting is more timid, his gestures more down-to-earth. Despite the fact that his eyes are still covered, it's as if he's taken off a mask.

On Valentine's Day of all holidays, Luka expected Chat to be over-the-top. He hadn't expected this level of sincerity.

"Oh, I—I'm sorry," Chat says, shoulders hunching. Luka winces, realizing he should have said something instead of gawking silently at Chat. "I didn't even ask. Did you already celebrate with someone? I guess it's silly to assume that you didn't, since someone like you—"

"I didn't," Luka says. "I was waiting for you."

Chat pauses, lips parted, and blinks. He reminds Luka of a cat caught mid-lick. "I, uh, good. That's good." Chat glances down at the vase in his hands and makes a startled noise, as if he just remembered he was holding it. "I can't stay long, but…I brought these."

"Are those flowers?" Luka asks. He takes another step closer to Chat to look at them. They're blue-green, shaped like flowers and connected to stems, but they seem to be made out of some strange material.

"Sort of," Chat says. One of his fangs digs into his bottom lip. "Actually, now that I think about it, you probably think this is sacrilege, but—"

"They're guitar picks," Luka realizes, brushing a teal petal with his fingers.

"Right," Chat says. His eyes dart around the room. "Some people are allergic to flowers, and flowers also die, and you have to keep them in water, which is a hassle—so I thought, why not give you fake ones? And then I had this idea, so I looked up a tutorial, and…well, I'm not very crafty, but I _am _good at following directions, so…" He clamps his mouth shut abruptly and holds the vase out to Luka. "Um, here."

Cheeks burning once again, Luka accepts the vase from Chat. "Thank you, Chat," he says, marvelling at the way the guitar picks are attached to each other to form different shapes of flowers.

A few are arranged in simple rings to form a sort of pansy shape, while others are layered so that they curve outward like lily petals. In the center of the bouquet is the most elaborate pattern of all, with several rings of picks that form a giant rose.

The green and blue picks are iridescent, glimmering in the light as Luka rotates the bouquet to observe it. It's beautiful, and it's just now occurring to Luka that no one has given him flowers before. The tempo of his heartbeat picks up at the thought.

He kind of enjoys being wooed. True, the pining and potential heartache make it a little less fun—but Chat's brand of courtship is sweet and gentle, a welcome break from Luka's past confusing romances.

"Sorry," Chat says, wringing his hands. "You probably think that's a waste of guitar picks, don't you? I should have put more thought into—"

"Chat," Luka says. He doesn't usually interrupt people, but he can't just stand there and watch Chat chastise himself when there's nothing to apologize for. "You put plenty of thought into this. I'm sorry I didn't say more. I…this is really sweet of you."

"But?" Chat says.

Luka frowns. "Chat, there's no _but. _I'm just not very good with words."

"Right," Chat says, grimacing. "Oh, I'm sorry. You've definitely said that before. I—I didn't mean to imply that your reaction was inadequate, I was just—"

"Maybe it will help if I give you your gift?" Luka says. He sets the vase on the kitchen counter and crosses over to the couch to retrieve his guitar. "I don't have anything physical to give you, and honestly, this is probably a little cliché…"

Chat wanders over to the couch. His tail is curled upward behind him. "Are you saying you, um…"

"I might have written a song," Luka says. He sits and pulls the guitar onto his lap, then quickly checks the strings to make sure they're still in tune. "But you probably guessed that."

"N-not exactly," Chat says. He lowers himself onto the cushion next to Luka, delicately perching on the edge. "I, um…I've never had someone write a song for me, so…"

Luka smiles, strumming the strings one last time to make sure they're tuned. "I've never had someone give me flowers."

"Technically they're guitar picks," Chat mumbles.

"Well," Luka says, leaning forward with a smile. "I've never had someone give me that many guitar picks, either."

Chat's lips melt into a smile. "That's good," he says. His eyes flick down to Luka's lips, then back up to his eyes. "Luka, I wish I could stay longer, because I…I kind of need to tell you that—well—but if I don't get back soon, père will…"

Luka clears his throat. "Right. I'd better get playing."

His fingers hover over the strings, and he hesitates again, just like he did back on Thanksgiving. What if Chat wanted something more romantic? What if a song isn't enough of a grand gesture for him?

Luka sighs. He never used to be this anxious about affairs of the heart.

"Hey," Chat says, fingers lightly resting on Luka's thigh. "You know I'm going to love it, right?"

Nodding, Luka runs his fingers along the strings. "I hope so. Alright. It's got a few parts, but since you have to leave soon, do you just want me to play one or two?"

"I can be late," Chat says. "Let me hear the whole song, please."

With a deep breath, Luka launches into the first part of the song. It actually consists of three sections, which he's mentally labeled as three flavors: peppermint, pumpkin, and chocolate. A different taste for each of the first three kisses Chat gave him.

Peppermint is Halloween: playful, jumping around different minor chords, occasionally dipping into Locrian mode for a haunting flair. As Luka plays a series of repeating minor seconds, he doesn't think of the _Jaws _theme, but instead of the way his heart thumped when Chat fell asleep curled up against him: _ba-dump, ba-dump, badump _as Luka realized that he had a crush on the boy sitting beside him.

When Luka plays that part of the song, Chat's fingers reach up to toy with the bell on his suit. Luka wonders if Chat's heart is beating to the rhythm of those notes.

Then, pumpkin for Thanksgiving: simple major chords embellished with trills, grace notes, silly deviations. Because isn't it absurd, that the boy Luka's fallen for made him celebrate a holiday that France doesn't even recognize, all in pursuit of a second kiss? And yet, Luka can't blame Chat for playing that game, because Luka had been craving that second kiss just as much—so much, in fact, that he kissed Chat twice that evening.

Once Luka finishes playing the main pumpkin theme, he circles back and repeats the last four bars. He watches Chat's face as he does, and judging by the blush and soft smile that overtake his face, Chat knows that the refrain refers to that second kiss Luka sneaked on Thanksgiving.

Finally, chocolate for Christmas: slow, full chords, warm and languid…and although it's a bit heavy-handed, Luka sprinkles in a few bars from Christmas carols. Chat's eyes light up when Luka plays a few notes from Tàladh Chriosda, which Luka seems to remember was his favorite one.

The song progresses, steadily building up to a climax—and then it stops abruptly, the last note falling away with a quick slide of Luka's fingers. Chat snorts, because surely he knows what _that _refers to: the kiss that was interrupted by spilled hot chocolate.

That's only the first part of the song, though. There's another part that began on New Year's—one that Luka couldn't possibly finish yet, not when he and Chat are still in romantic limbo. And so it's a song full of longing and tentative hopes, a daydream of where Luka and Chat could end up if they finally just sat down and figured out this thing between them.

Swallowing nervously, Luka plunges into that part of the song. It's slow, hesitant, with single notes that fall into thirds and sustained chords. Luka's channeled all of his uncertainties into this part of the song, and all of his optimism, too. The song is hand-holding, casual kisses on the cheek, fingers brushing an uncovered face. It's whatever Chat will give him. It's whatever Luka's allowed to take.

As he plays the last section of the song, Luka doesn't know how long he's been playing, if he's kept Chat too late, if it's even Valentine's Day anymore. All he cares about is that Chat is smiling, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling. Luka smiles back, though never for too long; whenever he holds Chat's soft gaze, it's all too tempting to just stop the song and kiss him.

But Chat said he wants to hear the whole thing, so Luka figures he should probably keep playing.

Finally, Luka's fingers pluck the last few notes, returning to the dominant chord but leaving the song ringing on the second of the scale. It's almost a resolution, but not quite—because Luka hopes there's more to the song, another kiss, another memory Chat wants to add. Luka doesn't want this to end yet.

He doesn't want it to end _ever_, really.

Luka risks a glance at Chat. He's staring at Luka with shining eyes, mouth slightly open, gaze flicking around Luka's face as if he's searching for something.

"Chat?" Luka says, setting aside his guitar. Seconds keep passing, and Chat hasn't said anything. "Chat, was that—are you alright?"

Chat surges forward and presses his lips to Luka's, sealing them with a kiss before Luka can think to breathe.

This kiss feels different from the others. It's like a promise from Chat, a reassurance that he'll finish this song with Luka, that he won't leave him drowning in uncertainty. And oh, there's certainty in the kiss—Chat's hands firmly grip Luka's arms, and his lips move careful and steady against Luka's, no trace of hesitance in his touches.

Then Chat pulls back, and Luka leans forward slightly, chasing his lips. He catches himself at the last second and pauses, cheeks flushed.

Panting, Chat whispers, "That song—that's how you feel?"

Luka nods, speechless. He's already poured all his thoughts and feelings into Chat's song; he doesn't have enough left to form words.

In answer, Chat throws himself at Luka, knocking him onto his back. Then his lips are on Luka's again, and this time, the kiss isn't careful; it's frantic, heated, fervent. Chat's teeth dig into Luka's lip by accident, and Luka hisses in pain, but he doesn't dare let Chat pull away. Instead, he wraps his arms around Chat's back and keeps their bodies pressed together, kissing back just as desperately.

It's bruising, and heady, and Luka's never felt this dizzy. Chat's body is warm and heavy on top of his, his tail curled around one of Luka's legs, his claws pricking Luka's hips. Some animal part of Luka's brain urges Chat to slip those fingers underneath his shirt and run them across his skin—but Chat's innocent hands leave a layer of cloth between them, even as the kiss makes Luka forget how to breathe.

Chat's arms move to wrap around Luka's neck, one hand cradling his head, and Luka wants to move, too, wants to hold Chat closer somehow—except his legs are caged in by Chat's, and all he can really do is move his hips, which seems like a bad idea.

_No, it's a great idea, _his muddled brain says. _Touch all of him. _

Chat's lips slip away from Luka's mouth to his jaw, pressing light kisses along his face and neck. Luka tangles his fingers in Chat's hair and hums. He's quickly losing his resolve to stay still underneath Chat, when all his body wants to do is take things farther and turn the kiss into something more.

And then Chat's baton starts ringing with a standard phone ringtone, and he pulls back from Luka suddenly, eyes wide. "I—oh, no." He groans. "I…I'm sorry. It's my civilian phone."

He sits up, now perched on Luka's torso. Luka lets his head fall back onto the couch cushion, chest heaving as he tries to ignore the fact that the boy he likes is sitting on top of him.

"Salut, Na—yes, I'm sorry," Chat says. His voice is strangely subdued, words tenser and crisper than when he speaks to Luka. "I'm fine. Uh, some people saw me, and I had to run—right, and then I…I got a little turned around." Luka glances up and sees that Chat is frowning as he listens to whoever's on the other end. "I know, I would have texted, but I…I lost service until now. I have to go to the bathroom, but I'll meet you and père by the entrance as soon as I'm done." He chews on his lip as the other person responds. "I'm sorry for worrying you. It won't happen again. Right. Bye."

Luka's fingers stroke Chat's knee. "Everything alright?"

Chat sighs, reattaching his baton to his back. "I have to leave. I'm dead if I don't get back to my father and his assistant in the next three minutes."

"Is that who was on the phone?" Luka asks. "His assistant?"

Chat glances away, mouth tugged down in a frown. "You didn't think _père _would actually bother to call, did you?"

"I don't know," Luka says, carefully. "Do I know your father?"

Eyes wide, Chat clambers off Luka's lap. "N-no, you—I—I'm sorry, I forgot that…" He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. "I need to get going."

He starts toward the door, but Luka reaches out and grabs his wrist before he can leave. "Chat," Luka says, sitting up. "Do you think you could come back before the next holiday?"

Chat blinks. "Oh. I, um…I can do that." He bends down and brushes his lips against Luka's one last time, so gently that Luka barely feels his touch. Knuckles brushing Luka's cheek, Chat adds, "A bientôt, Luka."

Heart thumping, Luka watches as Chat scampers out the door and pulls it shut behind himself.

Alone on the couch, Luka stares at the door Chat just disappeared through. It occurs to him that this is the first time they've kissed each other without an excuse—the first time they've kissed when it wasn't some sort of game.

Blushing, Luka touches his lips, then his jaw and neck. Chat had kissed him there, in each of those places. And he'd probably have kissed him more, if they hadn't been interrupted.

Luka glances at the bouquet of guitar pick flowers. It's such a sweet gesture; he can tell it probably took Chat hours to make. And the kiss—the _kisses_…even if Chat still hasn't told Luka how he feels, those kisses said something.

Chat isn't just teasing Luka, not if he gave him a gift and kissed him on Valentine's Day. Those are things people do when they're a couple. While Luka and Chat aren't exactly dating, and still haven't agreed on what they are, they're at least _something._

Luka wonders how many more holidays it will take for Chat to tell him what that something is.


	6. More Time

**A/N: **Hey all! This chapter is a little different from the others-I realized that it would be unrealistic if Luka didn't get a bit upset with Chat's antics, so there's a bit more angst than usual. Anyway, Happy St. Patrick's Day! I'll see y'all on April Fool's Day :3

**Also, small warnings:** brief discussion of coming out, minor reference to getting turned on

* * *

**More Time  
(St. Patrick's Day)**

On a Tuesday evening in March, Luka sits in his room and stares at the bouquet of guitar picks that Chat gave him for Valentine's Day.

His head rattles with a flurry of emotions, different tunes all clashing together. He hasn't been able to write music in over a week. He'd tried just now, but his fingers only managed to pluck a few notes before the cacophony in his head forced him to put his guitar back on its stand.

Lately, his feelings for Chat are too chaotic to capture in a song. And that scares Luka. Of the few times he's fallen for someone, this has never happened before.

Fiddling with a pick from the bouquet, Luka glances at the guitars lined up along the wall. Next to his electric and acoustic guitars is a new addition, one he acquired a few days after Valentine's Day: an old handmade guitar from Spain, which was a souvenir Adrien brought back after his father dragged him along on a business trip.

A suspicious coincidence, given that the exact same thing happened to Chat.

Picks and a guitar, and a string of coincidences that Chat hasn't even tried to explain away. Are those intentional clues? Or is Luka giving Chat too much credit?

By now, Luka is almost certain that Adrien Agreste is Chat Noir. Aside from the more general similarities—their homelives, their fathers—there have been too many specific coincidences to ignore.

Take New Year's, where Adrien texted Luka to ask where he was, only for Chat to appear a few minutes later. Or Valentine's Day, when Chat was out of the country until almost midnight, and then ditched his father and assistant at the airport to come visit Luka. Coincidentally, Adrien was _also _outside the country around that time, and was grounded for an unspecified stunt he pulled at the airport.

More recently, Luka had been surprised that Chat didn't visit for Mardi Gras, until he saw on Instagram that Adrien had a photoshoot that day. When Luka texted Adrien to ask how it went, Adrien responded that he was too exhausted to move—which would explain why Chat didn't show up for that holiday.

One thing bothers Luka, though: the fact that Chat still hasn't come back to visit. As Chat left on Valentine's Day, he'd promised Luka that he'd visit before the next holiday. And Luka thought that was progress. He thought maybe they were moving beyond this holiday kiss gimmick.

Apparently not.

Yes, Chat is probably Adrien, and Adrien has visited Luka a few times since Valentine's Day. But that doesn't _count, _because Chat hasn't actually told Luka that he's Adrien. As far as Luka is concerned, Chat hasn't visited him, which means he didn't keep his word.

Luka is increasingly tempted to pick up his phone and text Adrien, _We need to talk. _But he doesn't want to scare Adrien away, and he doesn't want to risk the slight chance that he's wrong about Chat's identity. So instead, Luka is doing what Couffaines do best: sitting and brooding.

He turns the blue-green pick over in his hands, watching it shimmer in the lamplight. After months of waiting for Chat's courtship to end in something, Luka can't shake the fear that it's going nowhere. Chat is sweet; he'd have trouble letting someone down. Maybe he hasn't come back because he hasn't figured out how to tell Luka that it's over.

Luka sighs. He knows that kind of thinking isn't productive, and that it's better if he stays optimistic—in fact, that's the exact advice he gave Juleka when she wasn't sure if Rose liked her back. But he's finding it hard to take his own advice. He can already tell that he's going to write at least five songs about heartbreak if Chat turns him down. How is he supposed to stay optimistic, when he can already hear melancholy melodies swirling in his mind?

And then, even if Luka never has to interact with Chat again—which is unlikely—there's still Adrien to worry about. Adrien, who will doubtless remind Luka of Chat every time they're together. Luka will wonder if Adrien's eyes are Chat's every time they look at each other, will wonder if Adrien's lips are ones that Luka has kissed every time they talk to each other.

It will fade, eventually. That's what happened with Marinette. But for a while, being friends with Chat and Adrien will hurt, and Luka is bracing himself for the pain.

He's pulled from his thoughts by a quiet rapping on his window. He almost thinks he's imagined it, but when he turns to look, he sees a familiar green-eyed face peering inside.

Pocketing the guitar pick, Luka stands and crosses over to the window. With a deep breath, he pushes it open and allows Chat Noir to poke his head into the room.

Chat's clawed fingers grip the sill as he boosts himself up, dangling his arms through the window. Luka notices there's something green balled up in one of his fists.

"Uh," Chat says. "So…it's St. Patrick's Day."

Oh. That explains why some of the local businesses were lit up green last night.

"Do people even celebrate that?" Luka asks.

He's reminded of a time he asked Chat a similar question, when Chat visited to celebrate Thanksgiving. That was almost four months ago, back before the novelty of Chat's visits began to wear off.

Chat smiles uneasily. "I'm not sure. I saw five tourists wearing leprechaun hats and getting drunk at a pub, so I think that counts."

Luka nods. He can't bring himself to smile at Chat's joke. "Is that why you're here? Another holiday?"

Chat winces. "I'm sorry. I know I said I'd come back sooner."

"You did," Luka says. He's trying to keep his voice calm, but it's hard. He remembers how electric he'd felt after Chat kissed him on Valentine's Day, how relieved he'd been that he wouldn't have to wait another month to see Chat again.

A month. When Luka really thinks about it, it's a little unbelievable that Chat could give him a kiss like _that _and then disappear for a month.

"I'm sorry," Chat repeats. His ears are downturned, his brow scrunched in a frown, and Luka guesses that his tail is probably drooping behind him. "I…it's…I'm sorry. I guess I didn't keep my word."

"Did you come back sooner?" Luka asks, taking a step toward the window. "Because I don't want to think that you went back on your word, Chat, but you're asking me to make some big assumptions about your secret identity."

Eyes wide, Chat opens his mouth and closes it. For a foolish moment, Luka wonders if Chat will blurt it out and resolve the whole situation. Just a few words: _I'm Adrien Agreste. _Then Luka would know that Chat didn't break his promise, and that the two boys he likes are the same one.

Finally, Chat asks, "Can I come in?"

Luka steps back, giving Chat room to get down. "Sure."

Chat slips through the window and lands as gracefully as ever, though his movements are jerkier, more hesitant. Almost immediately, his eyes land on the bouquet. "Oh," he says. "You…you still have it."

"Of course I do," Luka says.

Eyes darting around the room, Chat tugs at the green thing in his hands. It's balled-up cloth of some sort, and Chat is kneading it like a real cat. "I'm sorry," he says again, and Luka bites his tongue to keep himself from saying _stop apologizing. _"I—there was something I wanted to tell you last time, but I didn't, because there wasn't enough time, and I got distracted when we…"

He turns his face away, but Luka can still see a blush tinting his cheeks.

"That's okay," Luka says.

Chat nods, still not looking at Luka. "I didn't want to come back until I was ready to tell you—but then I wasn't ready—and now it's been a month, and it's a holiday, and I knew I had to come back, but I still…"

"Chat," Luka says, touching one of his hands. Chat pauses, fingers scrunched in the green fabric he's holding. "You don't have to say anything you're not comfortable saying."

Even as he says it, Luka knows that he doesn't quite mean it. He wants Chat to spit it out already. They've been running in circles for _months, _and he's tired of trying to divine what's going on in Chat's head.

But Luka's trying to keep that thought to himself, because the last thing he wants to do is make Chat feel pressured.

Chat squeezes his eyes shut. "I need to say some of it. Because the song you wrote for Valentine's Day was clear, and I—I haven't done a good job of being straightforward."

_No, _Luka thinks. _You definitely haven't. _

"Okay," Luka says. He squeezes Chat's hand. "What do you want to tell me?"

Chat takes a deep breath and opens his eyes. They shine brightly in the soft lamplight of the room, sharp and neon compared to the yellow glow. The sight steals Luka's breath away. "I wanted to tell you…that is…"

Luka waits patiently, even as his heart beats faster and faster. Finally, some reassurance to make up for the months of wondering.

Then Luka sees it: the moment the courage drains from Chat's eyes, the exact second he retreats behind his mask again.

Chat pulls his hand away from Luka's and folds his arms. "Did you—did you know that the city of Chicago dyes its river green for St. Patrick's Day?"

Something inside Luka snaps, like a guitar string drawn just a bit too tight. And he might have five strings left, he might not be _completely _done, but he definitely can't keep playing like this.

"No," Luka says, voice flat. "I didn't know that."

Chat cringes, and Luka's instantly tempted to smooth over his words. He could take them back and say he's just tired, and that could be the end of it.

But Luka is tired of shoving his insecurities aside just so that Chat doesn't feel bad. It's been _months. _He deserves some sort of answer. Some sort of confirmation that this isn't just a game to Chat.

"Chat," Luka says. "I don't want to say something I'll regret, and I don't want to start a fight. But I don't know how to get this across. Should…should I play my feelings? Is that stupid?"

"I—whatever you want," Chat says. Shoulders hunched, he tosses the bundle of green cloth onto Luka's bed.

Knowing he's too upset to play, Luka glances at his electric and acoustic guitars, and next to them, the guitar that Adrien gave him.

"My friend gave me that guitar," Luka says. "He's cute. Do you think I should ask _him_ out?"

_Stop, _Luka thinks. _Those are the wrong words. Those are definitely the wrong words. _He won't gain anything by being snarky or confrontational.

Chat lifts his shoulders in a weak shrug. "Like I said. Whatever you want."

"Chat, no," Luka says. "I want to know what _you _want." Hesitantly, he steps forward and takes Chat's hand. His stomach drops when he feels Chat's fingers limp and unresponsive against his. "I'm not mad. But I can only read people so much. At a certain point, I need you to tell me what you're thinking. I'm not a mind-reader."

"You're not mad?" Chat says. Slowly, he intertwines his fingers with Luka's, and Luka breathes a sigh of relief. "Because if you are, I understand. I would be, if I were you."

"No," Luka says. He takes Chat's other hand and holds it tightly. "I'm not angry. I'm frustrated. I—how do I put this? Lately, every time I want to write music, I don't know if it should be a song about love or a song about heartbreak. And I'm tired of not knowing."

Chat is silent for a moment, and Luka wonders if what he just said even made sense. Then Chat's body twitches, a slight forward movement—and that's all Luka needs to know that he should open his arms.

As soon as he does, Chat throws himself against Luka and buries his face against his shoulder. "I'm scared," Chat murmurs. "That's the problem, Luka. I'm a coward, so I keep playing stupid games, and I keep hurting you, and I'm sorry."

Luka wraps his arms more tightly around Chat. Scared. He can work with that. That's a concrete emotion, something Luka can actually understand.

"Okay," Luka says quietly, his fingers rubbing the nape of Chat's neck. "Chat, that's okay. We can talk about that. And you didn't hurt me. It's just…sometimes, this feels like something you don't want to commit to. That's fine if it is, but you need to tell me."

"What? No," Chat says. He tightens his grip around Luka. "Luka, I want to commit. I'm just afraid to."

"Can we sit?" Luka asks. "Is that alright?"

Gently, Luka guides Chat over to the bed and sits next to him. It occurs to him that the few times he's fantasized about getting Chat in his bed, this wasn't really what he was thinking of.

"Can you talk to me?" Luka asks. "Why are you scared?"

Avoiding Luka's eyes, Chat grabs the ball of green cloth and bunches it up in his hands. "I'm scared I've messed up. With my secret identity, I mean. And I'm afraid of coming out—especially to my father. And…" His head hangs low, cat ears tilted downward. "It's stupid, and pathetic, but I'm afraid of my feelings."

"That's not stupid or pathetic," Luka says. Then he pauses to collect his thoughts. He's never been the best at talking to people about their problems; he's more of a listener, really. But Chat needs him to say something. "Let's take those things one at a time, alright? We can start with the secret identity problem."

Chat groans, hiding his face in the green cloth. Luka glimpses some sort of graphic printed on it, maybe a letter or something. A t-shirt? He's hard-pressed to say what a t-shirt has to do with St. Patrick's Day, but he supposes Chat will explain it eventually.

Luka rubs Chat's back. "It's okay. Take your time."

"I messed up," Chat says, voice muffled by the cloth. "I mean, you can probably guess who I am, right? I wasn't careful, and the coincidences…" He mutters a curse. "You're smart, Luka. And I've been careless. If you don't already know, then we're only one or two slip-ups away from you figuring it out."

Is Chat confirming what Luka's suspected all along? Is he Adrien? He still hasn't said it outright, but what else could he mean?

"I have a pretty good idea," Luka admits. "But Chat…I don't mind knowing your identity. Why are you afraid?"

"I don't know," Chat says. He lowers the cloth from his face, though he still won't meet Luka's eyes. "I mean, I could lose my Miraculous, maybe. Civilians aren't supposed to know my identity. And, well, I don't know. What if you thought I was somebody more exciting? Civilian-me is boring, Luka."

Luka reaches out and rests his hand atop Chat's. "I can't imagine that you suddenly become boring when you take the mask off."

Chat shrugs and doesn't respond.

"Look," Luka says. "If I find out your identity, it was an accident. You've never actually told anyone your secret. No one's going to blame you for this."

"Ladybug will be mad," Chat mutters.

"If she's mad, I'll talk to her. You didn't do anything wrong."

Chat squints at Luka. "Visiting someone who I know as a civilian and compromising my identity? I'm not completely innocent, Luka."

Well. Luka has to admit that what Chat has been doing _is _a little ridiculous. "Alright. So you did a dumb thing. But we're teenagers, Chat. We make mistakes. I'm sure Ladybug has made a few of her own."

An almost imperceptible smile tugs at Chat's lips. "Maybe."

"Okay," Luka says, hoping they've dealt with that problem. Chat seems calmer, his posture less tense, and he's no longer anxiously squeezing the ball of cloth. "What about your other fears?"

"My father," Chat whispers. "I don't know how he'll react to me liking guys. I don't think he'll personally mind, but he really cares about my image. You know, the potential _scandal _if people started gossiping about his son being…" He hugs his arms to himself, and Luka's tempted to wrap him in another hug, except he doesn't want to invade Chat's space. "Even the thought of telling my friends is scary, and don't get me started on the paparaz—I mean—um—people who don't like me."

_Paparazzi. _That must be what Chat was about to say. After all, if Chat is Adrien, it makes sense that one of his biggest fears would be how the press handles him having a boyfriend.

Luka hesitates. He's not sure he knows what advice to give Chat. Sure, he'd helped Juleka when she was struggling with her feelings for girls, but this is different. Juleka isn't a celebrity with hundreds of thousands of followers. Juleka isn't chased by the paparazzi every time she goes out in public. And Juleka doesn't have an overbearing parent who insists on her maintaining an _image. _

Sighing, Luka picks up Chat's hand and holds it in both of his. "Honestly, I don't know what advice to give you. I don't know how to deal with your father or people who gossip. But I promise I'll help, Chat. I won't let you face those problems alone."

Chat nods. His eyes are shining, and Luka's hands twitch, ready to wipe away tears should they fall. "Thank you," Chat murmurs. "That means a lot."

Luka waits, and when Chat doesn't say anything else, he asks, "What about your feelings? Why are you afraid of those?"

For a long moment, Chat doesn't speak. Luka rubs a thumb up and down Chat's hand, trying to soothe him. He needs Chat to trust him. He needs Chat to tell him what he's thinking, because Luka doesn't think he can guess.

Is Chat afraid of liking a boy? Or is he afraid of liking Luka specifically? Now that Chat mentions it, Luka has sensed fear almost every time Chat visited; he just didn't have a name for the emotion.

There's always been some reluctance on Chat's part, a sense that he was hiding. Luka remembers how that changed on Valentine's Day, when he finally felt _close _to Chat, almost like someone had suddenly turned the volume up on a quiet speaker. Now, though, it feels like Chat has withdrawn again.

"I was in love with Ladybug," Chat finally says, staring at his lap. "And those feelings went away eventually, but they hurt. A lot_._" He takes a shaky breath before continuing. "After Ladybug, I was hoping it would be a while before I fell for someone again. Because—" His voice wavers on the last word, and he cuts himself off.

Luka squeezes his hand. "Because?"

"Because I'm scared of getting hurt again," Chat says. He squeezes his eyes shut. "I'm stupid. I face supervillains on a daily basis, and I'm afraid of…of a _crush, _essentially. It's stupid."

"No, it's not," Luka says, though he's not sure Chat hears him.

"I think that's why I've treated this like a game," Chat says. "I didn't realize it at first, but I didn't want to admit this was serious. I didn't want to be sincere. I was sincere with Ladybug, and for the longest time, she thought I was joking. So…I guess I thought that if I _was _joking, it wouldn't hurt as much if you said no."

Luka grits his teeth. He wants to pull Chat into the tightest embrace of his life, wants to kiss him senseless to show him how much he cares. But Chat hasn't signaled that he wants that, and so all Luka can do is squeeze his hand even harder. "I never said no," Luka says.

"And I was afraid of _that!" _Chat says. "Was it a game for you? I told myself that was fine. Then we could both just be playing, and no one would get hurt. Except I didn't want it to be a game—but I was the one who started it, and—and then I realized I could still get hurt." He yanks his hand away from Luka and hides his face in his hands. "I don't know anything about love or relationships. I've never been good at understanding my feelings. But it hasn't been a game for a while, Luka. In fact, I don't think it was ever a game."

"Chat," Luka says, softly. "It's not a game for me, either."

"I know," Chat says. "I've suspected that since the start, and on Valentine's Day, I knew for sure. And that scares me, Luka. I haven't been able to put it into words because I'm not good at sharing my feelings. It's just…I didn't want to hurt you, but I have. I'm despicable."

"You're not," Luka says. "I told you earlier, you haven't hurt me. I was worried, and a little annoyed, but I'm not hurt."

At last, Chat peers over at Luka. A tear rolls down his cheek, and Luka instinctively reaches out to catch it on his thumb.

"I don't want to be the reason you write a song about heartbreak," Chat says.

"Listen," Luka says, cupping Chat's cheek with his hand. "If I ask you to be with me, you don't have to say yes. You're not responsible for my feelings, or how many angsty rock songs I decide to write."

Chat laughs, even as another tear slips from his eye. "Would you name one after me?"

Luka snorts. "What I'm saying is, I'm not asking for a certain answer. I'm just asking you to tell me where we stand. I've been trying to go with the flow, but now I need some direction."

"I want to say yes," Chat says. "I promise, I'm going to."

"You don't have to promise—"

"I promise," Chat says. He twists his body to face Luka and takes both his hands, holding them up between them. "I'm going to say yes. I just need to…get to a place where I can say yes." Eyes wide and insistent, he leans forward. "And I keep my promises. Luka, I told you I'd visit before the next holiday, and I _did. _You know I did. I was too afraid to come back as Chat, but I didn't break my promise."

"I don't know that for sure," Luka murmurs. After all, Chat still hasn't said that he's Adrien. "Chat, I just don't want you to make a promise that you end up not wanting to keep."

"I want to keep it," Chat says, squeezing Luka's hands so tightly he's worried his knuckles might pop. "I want you, Luka. I really do. I just need more time."

Despite his doubts and concerns, Luka feels his stomach flutter at those words. _I want you, Luka. _When has anyone ever told him that, really? Never. No one's ever held Luka's hands like this, or looked at Luka like this, or spoken to Luka like this.

Desire. That's the emotion Luka can feel most clearly right now, radiating off Chat. Chat isn't lying when he says he wants Luka. He's not playing any sort of game.

Of course, Luka knows that it's dangerous to give Chat more time. This could get drawn out for months, even years while Chat tries to figure out his feelings. But Chat's life is already so restricted. Luka doesn't want him to feel pressured by a romance.

"I understand," Luka says. "You don't have to rush anything, Chat. I just need to know that this is going somewhere."

"It is," Chat says.

"Okay. So…" Luka glances at the ball of green cloth on his bed. "What's the excuse this time?"

Chat bares his teeth in a grimace. "Not very good." Cheeks pink, he grabs the green cloth and holds it in his lap. "Um, so, there aren't really any kissing traditions for St. Patrick's Day. At least, not that I know of."

Smiling, Luka says, "That didn't stop you on Thanksgiving."

Chat laughs. "Anyway, according to my research—"

"You did research?" Luka says, raising his eyebrows. "I guess I shouldn't have questioned your commitment."

"That's right, chéri," Chat says with a wink. The pet name makes Luka's cheeks warm. "Anyway, from what I've found, a lot of people—especially Americans—just use St. Patrick's Day as an excuse to wear green and get drunk."

"Is that what we're going to do?" Luka asks, frowning. "Wear green and get drunk?"

"Well. I suppose a bit of the first one." Chat unrolls the balled-up cloth, finally revealing that it's a t-shirt. It's flipped over, though, so Luka can't see the graphics on the other side. "Don't laugh. I did my best."

Luka watches as Chat slips his arms through the shirt sleeves. "So, what does a green t-shirt have to do with kissing?"

"Uh, there's a joke that I saw on a lot of St. Patrick's Day merchandise." Chat bends forward and pokes his head through the t-shirt, further ruffling his messy hair. "In my defense, I'm aware this is a weak excuse."

Cheeks pink, he tugs the shirt over his chest and sits up. Luka holds back a laugh as he reads the text, accompanied by a graphic of a four-leaf clover: _Kiss me, I'm Irish. _

"I said not to laugh!" Chat says, tail lashing. The buckle slaps Luka's arm, stinging slightly.

"Sorry," Luka says. Another chuckle slips past his lips. "It's just—Chat, are you even Irish?"

"Somewhere between one and two percent," Chat says. "I looked it up. My père was very impressed that I was taking an interest in our ancestry."

"Did you tell him it was just so you could kiss a boy?"

Chat rolls his eyes. "I could leave now, you know."

He starts to stand, but Luka grabs his wrist and tugs him back onto the bed. "Not yet. You still haven't told me why I'm supposed to kiss you for being one percent Irish."

"One to two!" Chat says indignantly. "And I'm not sure. I think it has to do with the Blarney Stone. Kissing it is supposed to be good luck, but if you can't go to Ireland to kiss it, then someone who's Irish is the next-best thing."

"Are you sure that being one percent—"

"One to two," Chat insists, pouting.

Luka laughs. "Are you sure that being _one to two _percent Irish outweighs the fact that you're a black cat?" Hesitantly, he leans closer, his hand creeping onto Chat's thigh. "If anything, I'm pretty sure that kissing you is bad luck."

Chat's fingers slide up Luka's chest and dig into the fabric of his t-shirt. "Didn't you say you have relatives in Scotland?" he asks. "I wouldn't be surprised if you're a little Irish, too."

Luka shrugs, even as his pulse speeds up. "Probably a little."

"So, if I'm so full of misfortune…maybe _I'm _the one who needs to kiss _you_ for good luck."

"I'm not wearing the shirt, though," Luka points out.

"Do you want to wear it instead?" Chat asks. The mattress dips as he shifts his weight, swinging one of his legs across Luka's lap to straddle him. "I can take it off, if you want to put it on."

"Hm." Luka slides his hands under the shirt and up Chat's sides, preferring the feel of warm leather beneath his fingertips. "That seems like an elaborate plan to get me shirtless."

"Is it working?"

"No," Luka says. He laughs at Chat's forlorn expression. "Maybe I'd consider it, if we were dating."

Chat's claws tickle Luka's skin as he cups his cheek. "That's not fair."

"Chat," Luka says, doing his best to sound stern. "I agreed to wait. I didn't agree to act like we're something we're not."

"Sorry," Chat says. His claws trail down Luka's jaw and send a shiver across his skin. "So, about that kiss…"

Luka grabs Chat's waist and pulls him closer. "Still not convinced. I'm not really feeling the St. Patrick's Day spirit yet."

"That's not surprising," Chat says, smiling as he leans forward. His green eyes fill Luka's vision. "You know, they say St. Patrick drove all the snakes out of Ireland. I imagine you're not a fan of his."

"Are you?" Luka asks, because he's not sure what else to say.

"I can't say I am," Chat says. He tilts his head forward, brushing his lips against Luka's. "You see, I happen to quite like snakes."

Luka takes that as his invitation. Closing his eyes, he leans forward and presses his lips to Chat's.

At first, the kiss is awkward. Chat is more hesitant than usual, and he seems to be holding his breath. There's unease in every centimeter of his body, from the way his fingers hover near Luka's cheek to the way he won't quite let their bodies touch.

"Chat," Luka murmurs. "Relax. You're allowed to touch me."

For them to actually get together, Chat needs to spell out his feelings. Luka's not going to play chords underneath a melody he doesn't know; he needs something clear, definite. A firm answer. But he's also not going to hold Chat at arm's length just because they're not officially together—honestly, he doesn't have a strong enough will to do that.

Chat blinks, pupils dilated. "I—right. Okay."

He wraps his arms around Luka's neck and tugs him back into the kiss. This time, his movements are more confident, and the kiss feels comfortable. Familiar. In moments like this, Chat doesn't put up a front. He opens himself up to Luka, lets Luka hear the song in his heart, and for a few fleeting seconds, Luka feels like there isn't a mask between them.

Continuing the kiss, Luka snakes an arm around Chat's waist and presses their bodies together. In response, Chat settles his weight on Luka's lap, his tail wrapping around Luka's waist. And in that moment, Luka is tempted—_tempted_—to take off his shirt like Chat suggested, to feel Chat's claws against his bare skin. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't daydreamed about it.

And that's when Luka realizes that he didn't really think this position through. Because Chat is sitting on Luka's lap. Chat is wearing tight leather, and Luka is wearing tight jeans, and…well. Luka doesn't have to be a genius to realize how _that's_ going to end.

"Chat," Luka mumbles, as Chat pulls away slightly.

Chat's lips ghost down Luka's throat. "Hm?"

"Maybe—" Luka sighs as Chat presses his lips to his shoulder. "Maybe this isn't the best position for two guys wearing tight pants?"

Chat yelps. His face flushes dark red, and he scrambles off Luka's lap. "I'm so sorry. I, um—I wasn't trying to—uh." He flops down on the bed, covering his face with his hands. "I wasn't thinking. I swear, I'm not…um, you know. Yet. Sorry."

Luka touches Chat's arm. "I didn't mean we had to stop. I just thought we should put some space between certain body parts."

"Honestly," Chat says, still hiding his eyes. "That might not make a difference. I feel like I'm on fire every time you kiss me. If we keep going, then eventually…" He groans. "I'm sorry, Luka. I don't have much self-restraint."

That's not surprising, since Chat is probably Adrien. He's always struck Luka as a bit touch-starved and repressed. But…

_I feel like I'm on fire every time you kiss me. _Luka finds himself smiling at the thought. He hadn't realized he had that sort of effect on Chat. It's a nice ego boost.

"That's okay," Luka says. He pats one of Chat's shoulders. "We don't have to continue."

If Luka's being honest, though, he doesn't mind if something embarrassing happens. He's comfortable with Chat. He trusts that neither one of them will judge the other if they get too enthusiastic.

"Do you want to continue?" Chat asks, peeking out from behind his fingers. "I'll behave myself."

"Will you?" Luka teases. "Or will I have to drive a snake out of my bedroom, in honor of St. Patrick?"

"Snake?" Chat echoes. "What do you…" He gasps and sits up, pointing an accusatory finger at Luka. "Luka! That was a dirty joke!"

"I guess it was."

"How very untoward of you."

"Don't tell your father," Luka quips.

Chat snorts. "He'd have a heart attack if he knew I was in bed with a boy talking about _snakes._" Then he starts cackling. "Banish my snake. Really, Luka?"

Luka feels his cheeks heat. "I was trying to make you feel better."

Gripping his abdomen, Chat wipes a tear from his eye. "I—I know, and it—that was very cute." He chuckles again. "But I'd rather not risk it. Um, could we maybe cuddle, instead?"

It wouldn't be the first time Luka and Chat have cuddled. In fact, Chat had fallen asleep curled up against Luka back on Halloween. But premeditated cuddling is beyond their usual games. Really, that sort of thing is in dating territory, which Luka told Chat was off-limits until they're officially together.

But how often does someone hold Chat and treasure him? Luka can tell Chat craves touch from the way he always leans into the slightest contact, and the way he stares at Luka's hands like they're some sort of rare instrument.

Chat needs this. And if Luka is being honest, he needs this, too: to feel Chat in his arms, real and warm, to know that Chat is _his._

Is that greedy? Possessive? It might be. Luka's never felt like this, not even when he had a crush on Marinette. It must be the fear of Chat sneaking away that makes Luka so desperate to hold onto him.

"We can do that," Luka says.

In answer, Chat pushes Luka so that he's lying down and then curls up against him. Sighing, he flings one of his arms across Luka's stomach and presses his face to Luka's shoulder, stray hairs tickling the exposed skin of Luka's neck.

Within minutes, Chat's breathing slows down, and Luka's pretty sure he's asleep. He scratches the spot behind Chat's ears and smiles when a purr begins to rumble in the air.

"You really are a cat," Luka murmurs, fingers tracing Chat's jaw.

Despite his jokes, he doesn't really believe in good or bad luck, although he does wonder if Chat's Miraculous imbues him with some sort of misfortune. So, well…if Chat really does have a sliver of good luck in him, that would be nice. Luka wants things to work out between them, and it would help if luck was on their side.

Closing his eyes, Luka lets the sound of Chat's purring chase away the ugly songs in his mind. And with the thrum of Chat's chest, and the softness of his hair, and the weight of his body, Luka realizes: this is real. They don't need luck to make this work. They just need time.

As Luka slips into sleep, he decides he doesn't mind giving Chat more of that.


	7. Fish Kiss

**A/N: **I'm so sorry for the delay, y'all! I almost forgot to cross-post this chapter from AO3. I hope everyone is safe and healthy! Please take care of yourselves.

For this chapter, you just need to know that in France, people sometimes tape paper fishes to other people's backs as a prank. (I think it's usually children who do it, but I know that some adults do it too, lol.)

* * *

**Fish Kiss****  
(April Fool's Day)**

On the first day of April, the springtime sun beats down on the deck of the Liberty, warming the chair that Luka has decided to lounge in.

There's a bit of a chill to the air, but with his hoodie on, he doesn't mind. He's been too wrapped up in his thoughts to notice the temperature, anyway.

Ever since Luka almost had a fight with Chat on St. Patrick's Day, the songs in his head have been a bit more intense than usual. And that's fine; passion means he's being productive. But Luka's fingers and wrists can only take so much before he has to set down the guitar and find something else to do with his time. Today, it's reading.

Luka sighs, lowering the book to his lap. He's been trying to read the same line for the past five minutes, but he can't seem to keep his thoughts from wandering to Chat. That's a recurring theme, lately. Luka supposes it's the natural result of being wooed by a guy who's straight out of a romantic comedy movie.

One kiss, once a month, always on a holiday. This month, assuming Chat keeps up the tradition, there are two possibilities: April Fool's Day, or Easter. Today is the former, and Luka still hasn't figured out if Chat is planning to show up. He hadn't dropped any hints on St. Patrick's Day—actually, he hadn't said much at all, since he and Luka had been busy making out—so Luka has no way to tell what Chat is planning.

Easter seems more like Chat's style. It's a more conventional holiday, like Christmas or New Year's, and there are plenty of opportunities for Easter-themed gimmicks. (There's also the possibility that Chat will show up in a giant rabbit suit, which Luka hopes isn't the case. He prefers the cat costume.)

At the same time, while Chat might be a romantic, he's also a prankster. Luka has a hard time believing that Chat will stay away on April Fool's Day. In fact, he's well-aware that he's opening himself up to attack by sitting out in the open on the deck of the Liberty. If he ends up getting pranked by Chat, he supposes it's his fault for trying to enjoy the nice weather.

Footsteps thump against the deck, and Luka frowns, dog-earing the page he's on. "Hey," he says, glancing up. "What's…" He trails off when he realizes that the blond boy staring back at him isn't quite who he expected. "Adrien?"

"That's me," Adrien says. He rubs the back of his neck. "Um, I just got done with a photoshoot, but I convinced Nathalie to let me drop by and say hi."

Slowly, Luka sets his book on the small table next to his chair. Somehow, despite all the April Fool's Day scenarios he considered, he failed to anticipate that Chat might decide to show up as Adrien.

Luka would never say this out loud, since he's determined not to pressure Adrien into anything—but he's still a bit frustrated by the fact that Adrien won't just _say _he's Chat. Luka knows it. Adrien knows that Luka knows it. And on one hand, Luka understands that it's redundant for Adrien to reveal his identity at this point. On the other, it would be a nice show of trust. Hearing the words directly from Adrien's mouth would reassure Luka that it's alright for him to know Chat's secret identity, that it wasn't an accident, that there's nothing wrong with Luka guarding Chat's secret.

"It's good to see you," Luka says. He moves to stand up, but Adrien holds up his hands to stop him.

"No, no!" Adrien says. "You don't have to get up. Actually, is it okay if I sit for a few minutes?" He laughs. "I was on my feet for most of the photoshoot, so I'm not really in the mood for standing."

"Sure," Luka says. He gestures to the chair next to his. "Make yourself comfortable."

He tries not to squint at Adrien as he sits down. It's not the first time Adrien has visited Luka on the Liberty, but it's the first time he's visited on a holiday. For a moment, Luka wonders if this means that Adrien is finally ready to move forward with their relationship—until he realizes that there's no way Adrien is going to confess to Luka on April Fool's Day. The boy might be dense, but he's not _that _bad.

"What are you reading?" Adrien asks.

Luka sighs. "I'm not reading, really. I guess I have a lot on my mind."

Lips pressed together, Adrien nods. "That's…too bad."

Luka resists the urge to say, _Yes, and it's kind of your fault. _On St. Patrick's Day, he promised to give Adrien time to work through his feelings. He needs to honor that promise. "It's fine," he says. "The weather is nice, at least."

Adrien hums in agreement, settling back in his chair. "It really feels like spring, doesn't it? Which is nice, since spring is my favorite season. Everything feels new. Kind of like a fresh start." He glances at Luka. "For—for nature, I mean. Because the trees grow new leaves and stuff. I…wasn't talking about people."

Maybe he wasn't, but now Luka can't help but read into Adrien's words. What exactly does he mean by _a fresh start?_ Luka wishes he knew.

He can tell Adrien is at ease from his relaxed posture and loose body language. The usual tension in his muscles is nowhere to be found. And yet…he's a bit fidgety. Luka supposes that could be due to their complicated romantic situation, but that doesn't quite feel like the right answer.

Something thuds against the deck. "Oops!" Adrien says. "I dropped my phone." He twists in his seat and reaches for the fallen cell phone, but it seems to be just out of reach underneath Luka's chair. "I guess it fell out of my pocket."

"Well, it doesn't look like you have much room in those pockets," Luka comments. Then he wonders if it was awkward to point out how tight Adrien's pants are. "Uh—here, let me get that for you."

He bends forward to get the phone, and as he does, he senses a shift in the air. Almost as if someone has moved into his space. Then, so lightly that Luka thinks he's imagined it, he feels something brush against his back.

Luka frowns, handing Adrien's phone to him. "Did you just touch my back?"

"No," Adrien says, his eyes far too wide to be innocent. "Maybe it was a bug or something."

Still frowning, Luka reaches behind himself and feels his back. "Is there something—"

"Nothing!" Adrien says, far too quickly. He grabs Luka's wrist and tugs lightly. "There's nothing…"

Luka's searching fingers brush against something that feels like paper. "Nothing?" he says, as he pulls the paper off his back and holds it up for Adrien to see.

The first thing Luka notices is that it's a piece of paper cut in the shape of a fish. Ah, yes. Poisson d'avril. Luka's not surprised.

Then Luka realizes there's something written on the fish: _KISS ME. _

Adrien pointedly stares at the deck of the ship, his face bright red.

"Kiss me," Luka reads, even though Adrien must know what it says. "You know, I don't think that was on my back a few minutes ago."

"Oh," Adrien says, glancing up with wide eyes. "No, um—I think it was, actually—maybe someone else—"

"Were you putting this there for yourself?" Luka asks.

He's partly teasing Adrien, but he's also curious. Is Adrien trying to goad Luka into kissing _him? _That's definitely unexpected. Adrien has hidden behind his mask for every other one of their encounters—and considering that Adrien still isn't ready to ask Luka out, Luka doubts that Adrien is ready to kiss him unmasked, detransformed, and in broad daylight.

"No," Adrien says. "I was…you know…"

Luka raises his eyebrows. "What do I know?"

"Putting it there for someone else?" Adrien says. He smiles tightly, his teeth peeking out from his lips like a tiny cry for help. "You know."

Slowly, Luka nods. Apparently they're going to pretend that Luka doesn't know Adrien is Chat. He supposes he can play along with that.

"Okay," Luka says, turning the fish over in his hands. "Would this happen to be the same person who's been dropping by to flirt with me every holiday?"

"That's the guy," Adrien says. "He sends his regards, by the way."

Luka tries not to roll his eyes. "Does he, now."

"Would I lie?" Adrien asks, leaning forward.

_No, _Luka thinks, _but you'd certainly avoid the truth. _

"I guess not," Luka says. "Is he nearby, then? I would guess he's waiting to swoop in and steal his kiss."

"That was the plan," Adrien says. "I was supposed to, um, plant the fish—and then he was going to drop by and collect."

Suddenly, like a burst of inspiration for a song, Luka has an idea. He knows that he can't push Adrien to say anything he's not ready to say, of course. At the same time, well…they both know that Luka knows Adrien is Chat. And it _is _April Fool's Day. Surely Adrien wouldn't fault him for having a bit of fun.

"Well," Luka says, raising his eyebrows. "If he really wanted to make sure that _he _got the kiss, then he probably should have set up the prank himself. Don't you think?"

"Uh." Adrien blinks. "That's…I mean…"

"And you know," Luka says, unable to keep a smile from tugging at his lips. "It _is _April Fool's Day. So it's only fair if I…" He reaches forward and presses the taped side of the fish to Adrien's chest, right near his heart. "Oh, look at that."

Adrien glances down at the fish on his shirt, then back up at Luka. His cheeks are bright red. "I'm pretty sure you're supposed to put it on someone's back."

Luka shrugs. "We don't follow tradition around here."

Still blushing, Adrien fiddles with the paper fish. "I'm just the messenger, you know."

"I know," Luka says, smiling. "And I just realized—what better way to prank my admirer than to kiss his messenger instead?"

Adrien rubs the back of his neck. "Well. It's hard to argue with that logic."

"I am wondering, though," Luka says, leaning forward. "Am I just playing into his hands? Is this all part of his plan?"

"No," Adrien says. "Definitely not."

Luka nods. "It's nice to catch him off-guard for once." He leans back in his seat and clasps his hands on his stomach. "Usually I'm the one who doesn't know what's going to happen next."

"That—that's not true," Adrien says. "I—he has a pretty good idea of what's going to happen!"

Fighting back a smile, Luka says, "Does he?"

Adrien splutters out a variety of consonants. When he finally gets his tongue under control, he says, "Well—you're going to…" He vaguely waves a hand. "Me, aren't you?"

"What am I going to do to you?" Luka asks. He thinks he might finally have this flirting thing figured out, if Adrien's deepening blush is anything to go by.

"You know," Adrien says. "The…the fish…"

"I did put the fish on you," Luka notes. "Actually, I'm glad you're here. Maybe I'll finally get some reading done now that I have company."

Adrien frowns, his brow scrunching adorably. "Wait, that doesn't make sense. How can you read more easily with someone—"

"Let me see where I left off," Luka says, picking up his book from the table next to him. "I want to finish this chapter, at least, before I go downstairs."

He slowly opens the book and pages through it to check. To his disappointment, it turns out that the page he dog-eared is the second-to-last page of the chapter. He'd been hoping to drag out his joke for a bit longer than that.

"Oh," Adrien says, peering at the book. "That's not too bad. You only have—"

"I think I dog-eared the wrong page," Luka says, flipping back a few pages. "I don't remember reading any of that."

"Wait," Adrien says. He makes a grab for the book. "That's not—"

"Adrien," Luka says, pulling the book out of reach. "If you want something to read, I can go downstairs and get you a book, but I'm reading this one."

Adrien stares at Luka as if he just told him he could never eat sweets again. "Luka," he whines, pawing at Luka's arm. "Don't do this."

"You know," Luka says, keeping his eyes fixed on the pages of his book. He knows all too well how potent Adrien's kitten eyes are. "I'm always so busy with Kitty Section and writing music that I don't have much time to read. This is the first time in a while that I've gotten to sit down and enjoy a book."

He's partly telling the truth; he _is _busy with music, and he often doesn't have time to read. But he's also lying. If he honestly had to choose between reading a book and making out with Adrien Agreste, he'd choose the latter every time.

Luka can _feel _the pout on Adrien's face, even if he can't see it. "But—Luka," Adrien says. "It won't take long to…you know…"

A small snort escapes Luka, even as he tries to tamp down his laughter. Adrien's inability to finish his sentences is making this all too easy. "To finish this chapter?" Luka says. "Maybe. I don't know, I'm a pretty slow reader."

Growling, Adrien settles back in his seat, leaving Luka to his book.

Biting back a smile, Luka stares at the page he's already read, not bothering to reread it. He's more interested in the way Adrien keeps shifting in his seat and making small noises of displeasure, probably hoping that he can weaken Luka's resolve.

Luka rolls his eyes. Cats are used to getting their way. He's sure this is driving Adrien crazy.

It's nice, though, to be the one in control this time. Usually, Chat is the one who dangles the kiss in front of Luka and goads him into it, so he obviously didn't expect Luka to turn the tables on him.

This is also the first holiday that Luka actually has a firm idea of where they stand. On St. Patrick's Day, Chat had promised that he'd eventually say yes to Luka, as long as he had a bit more time to sort out his feelings and fears. Luka can finally relax a bit, now that he doesn't feel compelled to chase after Chat.

He finds himself smiling as he stares at his book. Sitting here with Adrien, laughing and teasing, just enjoying each other's company—he's looking forward to more of that.

"Luka," Adrien whispers.

"Yes?" Luka says.

"You've been staring at the same page for three minutes. I counted."

Luka plants his finger on a random spot on the page, then turns to Adrien with an eyebrow raised. "It's not nice to mock people's reading speeds, Adrien."

"You're not even reading," Adrien hisses.

"That could be because you keep distracting me," Luka says levelly. Years of meditation have prepared him for staring down a supermodel who's on the verge of throwing a tantrum.

"Luka," Adrien whines. "Are you ever going to finish this chapter?"

"Well," Luka says, "if you want to guarantee I finish it, you could read it to me."

Adrien blinks. "You—are you serious?"

"Of course," Luka says. "You know me, Adrien. I don't joke around."

"Except on April Fool's Day, apparently," Adrien mutters. He grabs the book from Luka's hands and sets it on his lap. "Okay, what line were you on?"

"Oh, I forget," Luka says. He leans back and closes his eyes. "You can just start from the top of the page."

Adrien growls, but a moment later, he begins reading from the book. At first, he reads as if it's a chore, hastily rattling off the words like a student being forced to read aloud in class. Luka struggles to keep a straight face as Adrien monotonously recounts a heated exchange between two characters, somehow making an intense confrontation sound like a weather report.

There's the sound of a page turning, and then Adrien says, "Do I seriously have to do this?"

"What?" Luka says, trying not to laugh. "You don't like spending time with me?"

Adrien groans. "Of course I do, it's just—I—"

"Could you read a bit slower, maybe?" Luka says. "I'm having trouble keeping up. And could you do different voices for the characters? It's hard to tell who's speaking."

A series of strangled sounds exit Adrien's mouth. "You—why—yes. Of course."

"You have a pretty voice," Luka adds. "You should use it."

Adrien snorts. "That sounds a little inappropriate."

"Well, I guess I know what _your _mind is on."

Sighing, Adrien starts reading again. This time, his warm voice is slower, more measured, taking time to appreciate the sounds of the words as he reads them off the page. Luka is suddenly able to appreciate the flow of the writing, the assonance and consonance, things he sort of noticed when skimming but wasn't really able to enjoy.

Truth be told, he's always liked hearing things read aloud. It's like a way of turning books into music.

And of course, there's no denying that Adrien's voice is musical. The lilt he usually has as Chat Noir is more pronounced as he narrates, his tongue waltzing from syllable to syllable. When he creates different voices for the characters, it doesn't sound over-the-top. Luka can hear him savoring each word, doing his best to bring the story to life in the air between them.

He bites his tongue, tempted to suggest to Adrien that he pursue a career in narrating audio books.

Instead, he focuses on Adrien's voice, allowing the honeyed tone to lull him into drowsiness. As a musician, Luka is drawn to sound—and so, it's no surprise that he feels his stomach fluttering at Adrien's words, and finds himself listening to Adrien's speech like he's listening to a song.

His mind wanders to other times he's noticed Adrien's voice. Valentine's Day, when Chat had shakily thanked Luka for his song with tears in his eyes. Halloween, when Chat had mumbled sleepily as he dozed against Luka, a forgotten movie playing in the background. And any time they kiss, really, when Chat hums and gasps against Luka's lips, each tiny sound punching the air from Luka's lungs.

"Luka?" Adrien asks.

Luka smiles, sleep blurring his brain. His name sounds so sweet on Adrien's tongue.

"Luka," Adrien repeats. Something nudges Luka's arm. "I finished the chapter. Are you awake?"

Luka cracks an eye open and finds that Adrien is leaning across the space between them, the open book dangling from his right hand. "Hm?"

Adrien groans. "Don't tell me I have to read that all over again," he says, eyes wide. "Luka, I did my best, but this is starting to border on psychological torture and I—"

A laugh bursts out of Luka. "Relax," he says. "You don't have to read it again. I got a little distracted by the sound of your voice, but I can always reread it later."

"Flattery will get you nowhere."

"I'm just being honest," Luka says. "I like listening to you. Maybe I should have you read to me more often."

That's a thought: lying in the sunlight with his head on Adrien's lap, listening as Adrien's soft voice reads passages from a book. Luka wonders if Adrien would be willing to make that a regular thing.

"Maybe another time," Adrien says. "But for now, can we get back to this?" He taps the fish on his chest.

"What about it?" Luka asks.

Adrien gives Luka what can only be described as _a look. _

"That's right," Luka says. "I was thinking maybe I should kiss the messenger to retaliate against my prankster."

"Right," Adrien says, leaning forward. Luka worries that he's going to accidentally fall out of his seat.

"But I don't know if he'll be okay with that," Luka says.

"I think he'll be fine."

"I think so, too," Luka says, "but I don't know for sure, and I don't want to be unfaithful."

"Luka," Adrien says. His fingers curl into the sleeve of Luka's hoodie. "Did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me? Because it feels like you're punishing me, and—"

"No, no," Luka says. He rests his hand on top of Adrien's, noting that his skin is a bit chilled. It's strange, when he's so used to Chat Noir being warm. "I'm just teasing. And you didn't do anything wrong…but you _did _visit on April Fool's Day and try to prank me. Aren't I allowed to retaliate?"

"Technically, it's not my prank," Adrien says.

"Technically," Luka says, leaning closer, "that's a lie."

Adrien's gaze flicks down to Luka's lips. He's close enough that Luka can see each of the sun-kissed lashes framing his eyes. "I suppose the prank was rather devious," Adrien says. "It's only fair if you get payback."

He leans even closer, and Luka has to summon every ounce of patience he has to avoid diving in and kissing Adrien right then and there. He has to resist if he's going to see this prank come to fruition.

Gripping Adrien's chin, Luka gradually leans forward, narrowing the distance between them centimeter by centimeter. Adrien's eyes flutter shut, and Luka's lips just _barely _brush against his.

Then Luka moves and presses a kiss to the corner of Adrien's mouth. He lets his lips linger for a moment, savoring the soft feel of Adrien's skin—and then he pulls away with a smile.

Eyes half-lidded, Adrien leans forward, chasing Luka's lips. Luka stops him by pressing his index finger to Adrien's mouth.

"If he really wanted me to kiss him," Luka says, "then he should have come here himself."

Adrien's eyes go cross-eyed as he tries to focus on the finger smooshing his lips. "But—I—you…"

Smirking, Luka removes his finger from Adrien's lips and reaches down to take the book from Adrien's hand. Then he stands and stretches his arms above his head, yawning. "I'm glad I got some reading done," he says. "Let's do this again, sometime?"

Forehead scrunched, Adrien glances back and forth between the fish and Luka. His fingers brush the spot near his mouth that Luka kissed. "I…but…the fish…"

"A bientôt, Adrien," Luka says, starting toward the stairs that lead below deck. "Next time, try a holiday that doesn't involve pranking."

"Wait—that—you…"

"Oh, right," Luka says, turning around. "One more thing."

Adrien wets his lips. "Yes?"

Luka points at the fish on Adrien's chest. "You might want to take that off before your fans see it."

And with that, he leaves an adorably stunned Adrien Agreste alone on the deck of the Liberty.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** This is technically the last chapter of this fic, so I'm now marking it as complete! I might do one or two more of these in the future, but consider this the "official" conclusion of the series. Thank you so much for reading!

* * *

**Second Start****  
(None)**

It's rare that Luka has the Liberty to himself. Usually family or friends can be found hanging around the place—lounging in deck chairs, gathered around the ping-pong table, chatting or eating in the kitchen. While the place isn't always loud, it's hardly ever silent.

On this particular afternoon, however, Anarka is running some errand or another, and Juleka is hanging out with some friends. The houseboat is quiet, and Luka is alone. (He is, so to speak, at _liberty_ to do whatever he wants...although that joke isn't quite as enjoyable when he doesn't have a pun-loving boyfriend to share it with.)

Currently, Luka's guitar sits forgotten on the sofa cushion beside him, and Luka has a history textbook open on his lap. He's found that doing homework is much easier when he doesn't have to worry about supervising his mother.

Sighing, Luka pulls his phone from his hoodie pocket and unlocks it, checking for messages. For a while, he'd been texting Adrien about Jagged Stone's upcoming album, but Adrien hasn't responded in over a half hour.

Luka isn't too bothered; he figures Adrien has other things to do. At the same time, though, Luka is getting anxious. Two months ago, Adrien asked Luka to give him time to overcome his fears and commit to a relationship. It's a pending yes, an _IOU _of sorts, but the longer Luka waits for Adrien to make things official, the more he worries that Adrien will lose his nerve and walk back on his promise.

Adrien is a good guy. Luka cares about him a lot. That said, Adrien's also prone to hiding his feelings and running away, which doesn't bode well for a romantic relationship.

As Luka flips the page of his book, there's a knock on one of the living room windows, so quiet that he almost thinks he's imagined it. The sound sends Luka's mind back to Halloween night, months and months ago, when Chat spontaneously visited him and started this whole thing.

In hindsight, it probably wasn't spontaneous. Knowing that Chat is Adrien, Luka guesses that Adrien probably wanted to spend the holiday having fun with his friends and wasn't allowed. It makes sense that he decided to sneak out as a superhero to visit two of his real-life friends—first Marinette, who overindulged Chat's sweet tooth, and then Luka, who went beyond chocolate and gave Chat a kiss.

Luka turns to the window, and sure enough, Chat's face is peering through the glass.

"Chat!" Luka says. He hastily sets the textbook aside and stumbles toward the window, pushing it open so that Chat can come inside.

"Hi," Chat says, eyes wide.

"Hi," Luka says, feeling slightly dazed. His optimism suddenly returns full-force, and he wonders: is this it? Is Chat finally going to say yes?

Luka doesn't want to admit that he lost faith in Chat, and yet, he's used to being passed-over or ignored. The fact that he's surprised to see Chat…well, that probably means Luka was starting to give up hope.

Chat clears his throat. "Can I come in?"

"Of course."

Luka steps aside, and Chat squeezes through the window, landing a little unsteadily on the ground.

"So," Chat says. He hugs his arms to himself, eyes darting around the room. "Um…"

"We're alone," Luka says. Then he remembers that he'd texted Adrien earlier to tell him that Juleka and Anarka were gone. "But then, I guess you already knew that, since…"

"Right."

Chat still isn't very talkative, and his silence worries Luka. Is he here to tell Luka that he changed his mind? Maybe he realized he's still in love with Ladybug. After all, it's not like he signed a contract saying that he would date Luka.

"I…I'm sorry about April Fool's Day," Luka says. "I thought it would be funny, but sometimes my sense of humor isn't…"

"No, no!" Chat says. He waves his hands. "You're fine, Luka. It was cute. But _I'm _sorry for not coming back sooner. I had to, um…"

"Wait for a holiday?" Luka finishes.

This conversation doesn't bode well. They're both reluctant, trapped in their own heads, dancing around the subject at hand. Luka can practically _hear _the background music for this scene, and it's not the sort of swelling orchestral arrangement that usually plays before a confession.

Chat's ears flatten slightly. "Well, I mean…not really."

"Right," Luka says, as he remembers the date. "Actually, is there a holiday I missed? Because I made a list, and I don't think today is a holiday." Frowning, he pulls out his phone and navigates to the notes app. "The first was Labor Day. May 8 was Victory Day. Two days ago was Ascension Day, which would have been a strange choice. May 10 is apparently Mother's Day in the United States, which would be an even stranger pick…and their Memorial Day is on the twenty-fifth, which, again…"

"It's not a holiday," Chat says softly.

Stunned, Luka slips his phone back into his pocket. He hadn't expected Chat to break the tradition. He wonders if that's a good sign or not.

"I just…" Chat sighs. "I'm done looking for excuses."

Luka frowns. "Okay. So…"

"Oh!" Chat surges forward, grabbing both of Luka's hands. "Oh, no, that sounds like—I'm not done with _you, _Luka." He glances down at their joined hands, where his claws tickle Luka's skin. "I just don't want to wait for a holiday every time I want to kiss you. And I, um…" He sighs. "I'm sorry. I'm being stupid. Even though I _know _you want to date me, I'm still terrified of rejection."

Luka squeezes Chat's hands. "I'm not going to reject you. Take your time."

"I know." Chat finally looks up, his bright green eyes fixed on Luka. "First, I…I'm Adrien Agreste." He squeezes his eyes shut, mouth twisting in a wince. "Which you already know. I wanted to say it out loud, but…I'd also like to hide behind the mask for another minute or two, if you'll let me."

Luka lets go of one of Chat's hands to touch his face, and Chat lets out a tiny gasp at the contact. He relaxes as Luka traces the line of the mask underneath Chat's eyes, then lets his fingers rest lightly on Chat's cheek.

Finally, Chat said it out loud. Luka had known that those cheeks were Adrien's, that those eyes looked at him the same way Adrien does, that those lips kissed him the way Adrien would—but all this time, it seemed like Chat didn't trust him enough to say it aloud.

Speaking his name, explicitly trusting Luka with his identity: that's just as meaningful as any love confession.

"Thank you," Luka murmurs. He leans forward and kisses Chat on the cheek. "For telling me."

Chat's eyes flutter open, and for a second, a smile tugs at his lips. "You already knew, though."

"Maybe," Luka says, with a shrug. "But it's nice to know you trust me."

"Of course I trust you!" Chat says. He reaches up to cup Luka's cheek. "That's not why I didn't tell you. I was just…afraid to make it official. I technically wasn't breaking any rules when you _suspected _my identity, even if I'd all but confirmed it. Telling you out loud, though…" He grimaces, baring his teeth. "I'd definitely be in trouble for that."

Luka smiles. "It will just have to be our secret, then."

_Our secret. _He kind of likes the sound of that—even if the secret is a dangerous one.

"Anyway," Chat says. "It's like I told you back in March. I've had feelings for you for a while. I just didn't realize them at first, and when I finally did, I—I wasn't sure what to do." He glances away, almost like he's finding courage in the posters on the walls, and when he meets Luka's eyes again, his gaze is a bit more confident. "You're phenomenal, Luka. You're kind, and fun to be around, and so, _so _patient. You put up with me for months while I gave you the runaround, even though I didn't deserve that kind of patience."

"No, Adrien," Luka says, "you didn't—"

"And I'm sorry I didn't say these things sooner. I know you like to express your feelings without words, and I was worried that any words I came up with wouldn't be enough." Chat rolls his eyes. "And you don't need to sugarcoat it, Luka. You know I messed up. I invented a whole gimmick just because I didn't have the courage to ask you out."

"I kind of like the gimmick," Luka mumbles.

"But I think I have enough courage now," Chat says. He clears his throat. "Luka, I like kissing you a lot, but—I'd like to do more than just kiss you, if you'll let me."

Luka blushes. He's not sure if Chat misspoke, or if his confession just took a turn that Luka was definitely _not _expecting. "Adrien, when you say _more than kissing…"_

Chat's face darkens with a blush as well. He jerks back, letting go of Luka's hands to cover his red face. "Oh, I—I can't believe this," he mumbles. "I practiced this for weeks and I never even realized that…" He groans. "That's not what I meant."

Luka laughs. "Do you want to try that again?"

Chat nods, and after a moment of silence, he lowers his hands. "Luka, what I meant was, you're amazing—so amazing, in fact, that you're willing to forget such an awful slip—"

"Oh, I'm not forgetting it," Luka says. "I'll definitely tease you about this down the line."

"Alas, I suppose I deserve that." Chat clears his throat. "Anyway. I like you a lot, and kissing you is very nice. But could I possibly take you on a date sometime, on the other side of the mask?"

"Yes," Luka says.

The word is short, but heavy: it carries the weight of weeks that Luka has spent wanting to say yes, unsure if Chat would ever give him the chance.

Chat's eyes widen. "Really?"

Luka raises an eyebrow. "You woo me for seven months and you're surprised when I say yes?"

"I mean…" Chat grins sheepishly, and Luka barely resists the urge to kiss that smile off his face. "I guess I have a hard time believing I could be that lucky."

"Well," Luka says. He reaches down and captures one of Chat's hands in his. "I _did _give you that lucky kiss on St. Patrick's Day."

"Since it's been a few weeks, I think that luck might be wearing off," Chat says, "so, you know, if you wanted to give me another—"

"Hold on," Luka says, pressing a finger to Chat's lips. "I'm not always good at knowing what to say, but…I want to try."

"You don't have to," Chat says against his skin.

"I want to," Luka says, "because a lot of this, between us—it's been unspoken, and that's beautiful in a way, but I want to be clear about how I feel."

"Your song from Valentine's Day was pretty clear," Chat mumbles.

"And I'll play it a hundred more times for you, if you want," Luka says. "Let me talk first?"

Chat nods, cheeks still bright pink.

"I'm friends with you on the other side of the mask," Luka says, "but with you as Chat Noir, we've only really had the holidays. Plus some akuma attacks, but those don't count." He moves his hand to cup Chat's cheek again. "I just want to be clear about how each of those made me feel."

Chat raises his free hand as if he's a student waiting for the teacher to call on him.

"Uh, Chat," Luka says, "you can talk, you know."

"You said to let you talk first."

Luka laughs. "You don't have to raise your hand."

"Right," Chat says. "Um, can we sit down? I'm afraid I might get weak in the knees, and there's also a slight possibility I'll start crying, so I'd rather be sitting for this."

"Oh. Yeah, sure." Luka leads Chat to the couch, then moves his guitar and history book so that there's room for them to sit together. Sitting down, he asks, "Is this okay?"

Chat sits right next to him, his thigh pressed against Luka's. The closeness makes Luka's heart skip a beat, and for a moment, he almost forgets what he wants to say.

He's resisted the temptation to rehearse this. At first, he wanted to get it perfectly right, like the Valentine's Day song he practiced over and over again. But then Luka figured that if he was really going to speak from the heart, it would be better to improvise, even if his speech ended up being a bit messy as a result.

"After you visited on Halloween," Luka says, "I started sneaking leftover chocolates from the bowl. I don't even really like sweets"—he pauses as Chat mutters _sacrilege _under his breath—"but they reminded me of how your lips tasted when we kissed."

"Oh." Chat blinks. "Yeah, I'm, uh—I'm glad I'm sitting down for this."

"I'm not trying to make you swoon," Luka says, laughing.

"I guess you're just a natural."

"Anyway," Luka says, "I would have been fine with another kiss. But what I really wanted was what we had before that—you tucked against my side, us watching movies together, me stroking your hair until you fell asleep. I just…it's like you said. I didn't realize it at first. Even after Thanksgiving, it still took me a while to figure out what was going on in my heart."

He pauses, and Chat hesitantly touches his shoulder. "That's okay, you know," Chat says. "We figured it out eventually."

Luka nods. "On Thanksgiving, do you know what I wished for?"

Chat's face pinches in a frown. "It wasn't a kiss?"

"No," Luka says. "You had that covered. I wished for…" Luka trails off. "Well, it actually sounds kind of silly, if I say it out loud."

"I won't laugh," Chat says.

"I—I wished for you to be happy and free," Luka says, tripping over the words a little. Maybe he should have rehearsed this, after all. "Even though I didn't know you were Adrien, I could tell you felt trapped, and you seemed a little sad, so…I just wanted you to feel better."

Chat's eyes glisten. "You wasted your wish on _me?" _

"I didn't waste it."

Laughing, Chat throws himself forward and wraps his arms around Luka. "You're ridiculous," he mutters.

"Should I take that as a compliment?"

"How do you have that big of a heart?" Chat asks. "I made my wish a stupid joke, and you—you wished for my _happiness?" _His hair tickles Luka's chin as he presses his face to his shoulder. "I guess I should have let you win the wishbone break."

"Oh?" Luka asks, running his fingers through Chat's messy hair. "So it wasn't random?"

"It's a game of skill," Chat mumbles.

Laughing, Luka wraps an arm around Chat and pulls him closer, so that he's pressed against Luka's side like he was when they cuddled on Halloween. "Well," Luka says, "hopefully that Thanksgiving kiss made you a little happy, too."

"Being with you makes me happy," Chat says. "I don't need a kiss for that."

Luka feels his heart beat a little harder in his chest. "And when you came back on Christmas, it broke my heart that you were spending the holiday alone. I don't ever want you to feel alone, Chat."

"Did it break your heart when I spilled the hot chocolate?" Chat asks.

Luka snorts. "No, but it definitely broke the mood."

"I went home very frustrated."

_"You _went home frustrated?" Luka echoes. "I'm the one who had to explain the missing Krampus statue to my mother."

"Thanks for not selling me out."

"I can't date you if she throws you overboard," Luka says. "Anyway, where was I? On New Year's Eve, I just hoped I could spend the year with you. Actually, I'd like to spend many years with you, if that's alright with you."

"Oh," Chat breathes.

"But I thought maybe I was moving too fast," Luka says. "I still think I am. We're only teenagers, but I have a tendency to fall too quickly. It's burned me before."

Chat shifts and presses a light kiss to Luka's cheek. "That's okay. We just need to talk, right? Like we did on St. Patrick's Day."

"Hey, slow down," Luka says, smiling. "I haven't gotten there yet." He twirls a strand of Chat's hair around one of his fingers, and blushes when a purr stutters to life in Chat's chest. "On Valentine's Day, I told myself that I wouldn't be upset if you didn't show up. You didn't owe me a visit, after all."

"I'm sorry I was late—"

"But then you did show up, and I was so happy that you did—and that's when I realized that it wasn't just a fleeting crush." Luka turns and grips Chat's chin, tilting it up so that he can look into his eyes. "My feelings for you aren't going anywhere, no matter what season or day it is. At the risk of sounding cheesy, they're year-round."

"I like cheesy," Chat says. "I'm kind of a hopeless romantic, actually." His fingers capture one of Luka's hoodie strings, idly twisting it back and forth. "You know, all those years locked up in my room like a princess in a tower—what boy wouldn't dream of being sweet-talked and swept off his feet?"

"That makes sense," Luka says. He can't resist brushing his lips against Chat's cheek, feeling the line where the mask turns to skin. "I'm actually pretty awkward, so I can't promise I'll sweet-talk you or sweep you off your feet—"

"You say, as you give the most romantic confession of all time."

Luka laughs. "I'll try to always tell you how I feel. That's all I can promise."

"That's more than enough," Chat says. "Oh, and St. Patrick's Day?"

The way he asks it reminds Luka of a child requesting a bedtime story, and he snorts. "Right. That holiday was good, I think. Not rom-com material, maybe, but…" His cheeks burn, and he wonders if he's being stupid. "I think there's something kind of romantic about talking out problems."

"Yeah," Chat says softly. "That was when I really knew I could trust you, you know. I made a mistake and upset you, but you didn't give up on me. I…I'm often afraid that people will leave me, but I'm not afraid of that with you."

"Adrien," Luka says, "there are plenty of people who love you and won't leave you. I'm not the only one."

"I know." Chat leans forward, putting his lips centimeters from Luka's. "April Fool's Day?"

"I really wanted to kiss you," Luka says, "but I didn't want to ruin the joke."

"You should have," Chat whispers. "Ruined the joke, I mean. I would have forgiven you."

"Well," Luka says. "I'm very committed."

"So am I," Chat says, and Luka knows he's talking about more than jokes. He's talking about _them. _

The thought makes his heart thrum as if a bass is pounding, his entire body vibrating from the tender care in Chat's voice. Luka has no delusions; he's aware that a relationship with a celebrity-slash-superhero isn't going to be easy, and he's absolutely sure that it won't always be as sweet as some of their holiday kisses.

But that doesn't matter. They care about each other, and they're committed—and honestly, that's all Luka could ask for.

Chat's eyes drop to Luka's lips. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes," Luka breathes. For some reason, even now, he's afraid to scare Chat away when they're so close. He doesn't want to shatter the moment by speaking too loudly.

Chat murmurs something Luka can't quite make out, and then green light envelops him, flickering like electricity sizzling across his skin. It's beautiful, and a little intimidating—and then the face of Adrien Agreste is peering up at Luka, eyes as soft and green as ever.

Adrien starts to lean back, and Luka wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him close. "Hey," he says. "Come back here."

"Sorry," Adrien says, his cheeks pink. It's different when Luka can see his entire face—the way the tips of his ears are flushed as well, and the way the blush extends up to the skin that's usually hidden by his mask. "I guess I'm a little braver with the mask on."

Still hugging him with one arm, Luka strokes Adrien's cheek with his knuckles. "I think you're brave either way."

Adrien tilts his head slightly, leaning into the touch. "It's just…several months ago, I wouldn't have expected this, you know?"

"I know," Luka says. "I'd always had a bit of a crush on both of you, but I never thought you'd actually date me."

"I had a crush on you as soon as we met," Adrien says, with a lopsided smile. He ducks his head, ears turning an even brighter red. "I didn't know why, but when you took my hand and helped me to my feet, I didn't want you to let go. I thought I was just touch-starved. Which I am, I guess."

"Well," Luka says, weighing his words. "I like touching you, so—you don't have to worry about that with me."

Adrien smiles, his eyes meeting Luka's once again. "Do you like kissing me, too?"

Luka raises an eyebrow. "They say there's no such thing as stupid questions, but that kind of sounds like one."

"I'll take that as a yes." Adrien reaches up to run a finger along Luka's lower lip, and a shiver goes through Luka at the light touch. "But, first…listen, I really care about you, Luka. And I know we haven't spent as much time together as you and Marinette, or me and—"

"You know," Luka says. He runs his fingers through Adrien's hair—neater than when he's Chat, but just as soft—and quietly celebrates the fact that he can _do _that now. "You don't have to compare us to other people."

"I know, I know," Adrien says quickly. "But what you said about falling too fast—I do that, too. And that caused issues between me and Ladybug. I always told myself I'd take things slower the next time I liked someone, and then I went and started kissing you before we were even dating."

Luka smiles. "I guess that was a bit confusing."

"It confused me, too. And from now on, I want to make sure I do things the right way."

"There's no right way to do love."

"I _know," _Adrien says again, pouting a little. "But there's a wrong way, and—I started this wrong, so I want to make sure I end it right." He frowns, puffing his cheeks. "Or, well, not _end _it. I'd like this to continue. I guess this is a second beginning? I'm not sure. I, um…I should just kiss you now."

"I'd be okay with that," Luka says. While he loves the sound of Adrien's voice, he likes the feel of his lips just as much.

Still blushing furiously, Adrien wraps his arms around Luka's neck and tugs him into a kiss.

It's softer, more tentative than their other kisses, and Luka sees what Adrien means about a second beginning. Luka can feel how careful Adrien is being, his movements no longer reckless or careless. No accidental nips, or hasty mashing of mouths, or clacking of teeth: Adrien is slow and gentle, taking his time to make sure their lips fit together perfectly.

After a few seconds, Adrien pulls away, eyes wide, lips slightly parted.

"Our first kiss without a holiday," Luka notes.

Adrien presses his lips together, and his eyes dart across the room. "Well. It _could _be a holiday."

"Is there one I missed?"

"Well." Adrien rolls over so that he's perched on Luka's lap, one hand on Luka's shoulder, the other pressed to his heart. "Assuming you don't get tired of me in the next twelve months, um…it could be our anniversary, technically."

Luka smiles. "I like how that sounds."

He leans forward and brushes his lips against Adrien's, waiting for Adrien to initiate the kiss. After hesitating for a moment, Adrien tilts his head and presses his lips to Luka's—and immediately, Luka senses that this kiss is deeper, more insistent. Adrien's hand trails up from Luka's shoulder to tangle itself in his hair, and Luka wraps an arm around Adrien's waist, pulling him close until there's no space between their bodies.

As Adrien presses his lips to Luka's jaw and lets out a quiet hum, it occurs to Luka that they'll have to be careful about this whole _going slow _thing. Otherwise one of them will accidentally propose marriage before Bastille Day.

Adrien moves back to Luka's lips, and they kiss a few more times before Luka pulls away, fingers stroking the nape of Adrien's neck.

"Go on a date with me?" Luka asks.

Adrien pulls away, brow furrowed. "Didn't I already ask you out?"

"Chat asked me out," Luka says, smiling. "I'm asking out Adrien."

"I'm the same person, you know."

Luka pecks him on the corner of the mouth. "Humor me?"

A grin stretches across Adrien's face. "Yes. I'd be happy to go on a date with you."

"Great," Luka says, which is a weak word to describe how he feels. Then again, words have never been his strong suit. "Except, well…there's kind of this guy who has been kissing me every holiday. I should probably tell him I'm seeing someone now, but I'd hate to let him down."

Adrien laughs. "I don't think he'll mind."

And with that, he leans forward for another kiss.


End file.
